A Thenardier's Redemption
by frustratedstudent
Summary: The revolution has succeeded, but Enjolras and Eponine find themselves in over their heads with friends, politics, and heaven forbid, each other. COMPLETE AT LAST ON THIS SITE!
1. June 8, 1832

**June 8, 1832**

_"Marius, who is this girl?" ___

_"Monsieur, what is my sister doing here?" ___

_"I do not know, Gavroche. Someone please help me get her indoors…is it serious, Combeferre?" ___

_"She'll live, Marius. Do not worry," ___

_Blood was everywhere. That much she could see beyond the clouds of smoke and the smell of powder. She felt hands pick her up off the pavement and carry her away from the cold ground. She could barely focus on anyone's face for the sheer intensity of the pain wracking her body. ___

_"Marius…don't go," she managed to whisper before passing out. ___

Was she dead yet?

Eponine Thenardier knew she had to be. Why else would she be lying on something so soft? Why else was everything so warm?

The young girl opened her eyes and blinked at the sight of the room she was in. "Where am I?" she asked aloud. The bed she was lying on was actually clean and the damask curtains fluttering nearby at the window were free of dust. There was a vase of pink roses in the corner, along with an upholstered chair near the bureau.

The first thing that flashed through her mind was that she must have been in Marius' house. "Where else could I be? He's the one who found me!" she whispered excitedly as she tried to stretch. She bit back a cry as pain flared up in her side. 

Eponine looked at her swathed left hand and felt for the bandage that bound her side, just under her ribs. "I'm alive…is Marius alive too?" she wondered. She wished she could get out of bed to look for him. Was he still at the barricades? Was there still even a barricade?

The door opened and Eponine sat up straight. "Ah, you're awake already," a voice greeted softly. "How are you feeling, Eponine?"

Eponine's jaw dropped as she met the gaze of the newcomer. "Cosette?"

Cosette smiled as she sat down in the chair. In the morning light, her beauty was almost angelic. She had some bandages with her. "So you remember me? The Lark?"

Eponine nodded dumbly, half-wishing she had the strength or the nerve to chase Cosette away. Instead of the hot anger she expected to feel, the only thing in the back of her mouth was a strange sort of bitterness. "Where am I?"

"My house…at the Rue De Homme'l Arme," Cosette replied. "You've been asleep for three days,"

Eponine swallowed hard. "Where's Monsieur Marius?"

To her surprise, a distraught look flashed across Cosette's face. "He was hurt too at the barricades, a day after you were,"

Eponine's shoulders shook and she would have covered her face with her hands were it not for the bandages. "Oh my God!" she gasped. "How…what happened?"

Cosette moved her chair closer. "They won, but so many people died. So many were hurt," she said sadly. "I do not understand it, honestly,"

Eponine took a deep breath, trying to make sense of what was happening. She was alive, Marius was alive…but there was still Cosette. What was going to happen? "How did I come to be here?" she finally asked.  
The Café Musain was open for business as usual, taking advantage of the hubbub that was taking Paris by storm.

Enjolras tried to slip in unnoticed, aware that if people noticed him, he would be mobbed with queries, congratulations, and if he was in for a bad time, threats. Being one of the heroes of the revolution that had swept across the city and out into the countryside had this one disadvantage.

The tall, golden-haired revolutionary noticed a familiar figure seated in a corner, also trying to be inconspicuous. "Combeferre!" 

Combeferre looked up from his reading and smiled. "It's not like you to be so late,"

"I had to make a few detours on my way here. Calls of courtesy to the leaders at the other barricades…to various families…talking about plans to be settled on. All I can remember of the past two days is a whole series of meetings and decisions about what's coming next for France," Enjolras said, managing a casual smile though the strain was evident. 

"You never expected that we would win?" Combeferre asked lightly.

"I have thought about it, of course. However, somehow the anticipation seems more rational than the actual event," Enjolras said ruefully. "Feuilly gave me some news an hour ago. There is support trickling in from the countryside, but unrest beyond the borders of France,"

Combeferre frowned. "From England?"

"Yes, and Austria," Enjolras said. "Rumors of assistance that will be given to the National Guard, and the King who is fleeing at the moment,"

"Enjolras, you know very well what the rest of Europe thought of the Republic,"

"Progress moves as it will, Combeferre,"

Combeferre began playing with a pen. "Have you heard from the others besides Feuilly yet?" 

A smile spread across Enjolras' face, which appeared more mirthful than it had been in many weeks. "They will be fine. I thought that Jehan was lost, but he turned out to be only wounded. Bahorel will be out of the hospital in a week, but his broken ribs will still need tending," As impassive as the young man appeared to many, it was obvious to those who knew him that he did care for his friends, and was concerned for their welfare even amid the tumult of the revolution.

"Which is more than we can say for Marius, from what Courfeyrac told me yesterday," Combeferre said. "Gavroche, that boy who was with us, is in the same house with him,"

Enjolras nodded grimly, remembering precisely how Gavroche had taken a bullet while searching for cartridges. "Thirty dead…and more at the other barricades,"

"There would have been five more if you hadn't sent them away," Combeferre reminded him. "Enjolras, you know the price we paid was very severe. That old man, M. Mabeuf is never going to walk again like the rest of us will,"

"You think I like killing people, Combeferre? Or sending them to their deaths in a barricade? We do what we must, and I know that I risk condemnation for what I did," Enjolras said, his voice rising slightly.

Combeferre put a hand on his arm firmly. "I know that, mon ami. Lord above, I do. I tended the wounded; I was with you when you shot at that artillery sergeant," The medical student sighed. "We were lucky to walk away with only a few gashes and scrapes. So many paid with their lives, but what is nearly as painful is the fate of those who lived but are now crippled or maimed by the shots that were fired. There is that young lady that Marius found at the barricade…" 

"Gavroche's sister," Enjolras said quietly. "A gamine who Courfeyrac and all the rest of us took for a working man, if I'm correct,"

"That's her," Combeferre replied. "She was shot right through her left hand and her side. I was able to care for her a little. But she'll never use that hand of hers properly again. Poor child; she was there apparently for Marius, that much I gathered when she was delirious inside Corinthe. That other man who came in a National Guard uniform, Monsieur Fauchevelent, came back after a while to bring her to his house to be cared for better. He's the one who told me where Marius is now; he brought him there," 

Enjolras looked down. "That man is a rare one. Not only did he help us, but he helps the wounded," he said at last. "Do you know where he lives?"

Combeferre shook his head. "He apparently recognized her. That's another mystery. Will wonders ever cease?"

"If they did, you'd be terribly bored. So what are you going to do today?" Enjolras asked.

"I'm visiting Picpus later, to talk with some of the families there. I want to see how they are doing," Combeferre said.

"I'd best visit Marius when I get the chance to," Enjolras said. Among the revolutionaries who'd been at the barricade, Marius was one of those for which life still wavered between safety and death.

"Tell me and the rest when you go. He'll need his friends. Though I doubt, in his current state, that his grandfather will let us in the door," Combeferre said wryly. 'Don't overwork yourself till then,"

"I won't," Enjolras promised. "Tonight, we'll meet back here…at least those of us who are able to will be here,"

"As always. With all that's happening now, who'd want to miss out?"


	2. Malade Extraordinaire

**Malade Extraordinaire**

Jean Valjean was at his wits end as he walked out into the street. Oftentimes, he took walks just to clear his head.

The old man frowned as he looked at the street, which was another scene of disorder. Inside the house was a bitter soul, and outside was a scene of frenzy and anxiety. It was the twelfth of June, not even a week since the revolution had begun. The past days had been a blur of shouted updates, hastily printed newspapers, and the occasional street debate or scuffle on politics. 

He sighed as he looked at the packages of lint in his reddened hands. He would have been happy never to see any bit of the stuff again. Whenever he wasn't thinking hard, he was helping Cosette and Touissant tear up sheets for dressings.

"But if it makes her happy..." he reminded himself. In an unspoken agreement, he, Cosette, and Touissant had divided up their respective cares. While Cosette worried after Marius, Touissant looked after Eponine.

And Valjean himself was left with the world.

He looked up and down the Rue de l'Homme Arme as if awaiting someone. Sure enough, after a while, a young man holding a handkerchief to his nose came around the corner.

"Monsieur Fauchelevent," the newcomer greeted amiably, pausing only to sneeze.

Valjean nodded to the medical student. "Here, Monsieur Joly, I have some extra lint...I hear there are still many wounded who need tending," 

Joly sighed, accepting the package with a look of pure gratitude. "Most of them are at the hospital, or staying in the wineshop's back room. We are in a bit of a bad way, but at least there are so many people helping. Thank you, Monsieur. If there's anything that I or the rest of my friends can do for you..." 

Valjean shook his head. "I am going to the Rue des Filles du Calvaire,. You can be sure by tomorrow of having tidings of your friend Monsieur Pontmercy," he said in a level tone.

This was not lost on Joly. "I am going that way. If you mean to leave something for him..."

"No, I prefer to make this visit on my own," Valjean said in an odd tone. "Good day to you," he added before walking out of the gate.

Joly watched him walk off before turning in the other direction. Other matters had to be seen to. Before going out of sight of the Rue de l' Homme Arme, he glimpsed a young girl in the window of Valjean's house.

One look at her, and Joly knew that this could not have been the Cosette that Marius had spoken of. Instantly, Joly regretted not insisting on following Valjean. "I have to find a way to tell Gavroche," he muttered.

_Rue de la Verrerie_

Courfeyrac moved aside some of Marius' books in order to create a little room for everyone to sit in. Despite the fact that his arm was in a sling, he hadn't lost his good cheer. "Why can we not meet at the Cafe Musain or Corinthe?" he asked.

Combeferre glanced at him. "Firstly, because we have much to discuss which we cannot do if we are to be interrupted. Secondly, because Corinthe is still in shambles," 

Enjolras looked around the room with a smile. Things were looking up, judging by the outcome of his last meeting with the entire society a few days before in Cafe Musain. Since then, he'd received various good tidings from other groups within Paris, and had heard news of movement in the provinces.

However, tonight's meeting was not to be about politics. For this purpose, he'd only called together a few select friends. Prouvaire and Bahorel were not yet able to join them, but for once Grantaire had showed up sober. Despite this oddity, Enjolras was still able to notice one absence. "Where's Joly?"

As if meaning to answer, Joly burst into Courfeyrac's room. "Sorry I'm late!" he wheezed as Bousset pulled up a chair for him.

"Never mind, Joly. Where have you been?" Grantaire asked.

Joly took a deep breath and held out the package of lint. "Getting help and information. I learned where Monsieur Fauchelevent lives," he finally said. "Seven, Rue de l'Homme Arme,"

"And you ran all the way just to find that out?" Enjolras asked, noticing the muddy cuffs of Joly's trousers.

"Couldn't find a fiacre,"

"Seems as if Bousset's affinity for the evil genius is rubbing off on you," Feuilly said dryly. 

Enjolras absent-mindedly pushed the hair out of his eyes. "You know the whole question of restitution...of paying for damages, loss to life...everything destructive that happened. While there is much being done, there are some debts that we ourselves have to repay,"

"Monsieur Fauchevelent said there's nothing we can do for him to help," Joly reported. "But there's another thing. Gavroche,"

"What about him?" Enjolras asked.

"We have to visit him, give him news of his sister," Joly said. "She's apparently among what little family he has left,"

"Does he not have a father?" Combeferre asked. "Or a mother?"

Courfeyrac shook his head. "His father has disappeared. Mother is dead. That much I gathered from looking up things,"

"Since when did you, Maurice Courfeyrac, do some work of your own among records?" Bousset asked.

"The same day that Antoine Enjolras woke up to a republic?" Grantaire quipped. "You did not see this coming, my friends,"

Enjolras gave Grantaire a withering look. "Do you not believe in anything, even when it is happening in front of you?"

Grantaire gave him a knowing grin. "Better to stand on steady ground than in dreams,"

"Then do us a favor and go," Enjolras said. "Go and visit Marius and Gavroche. Give them the news. Combeferre knows the address," 

Grantaire's shoulders slumped. "Let me stay. It is late,"

Enjolras folded his arms. "Then keep your opinions to yourself, unless you can think of a way to pay, or atone for some of the things that happened..."

Just then, a knock sounded on the door. Bousset, who was closest to the door, opened it only a few inches. "Who do you look for?" he asked.

"Is Monsieur Marius here?"

Courfeyrac got up and opened the door wider. An expression of alarm crossed his face. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I--" Eponine managed to say before slumping to the floor in a faint.


	3. A Slew of Errands

**A Slew of Errands**

Gavroche was restless.

When no one was looking, the gamin would rise from his bed and walk to the window, as if seeking some connection back to the hullaballoo of the streets outside. 

"First chance I get, I'm knocking those doctors flat. Then I'm going out to see what's going on!" he said aloud. 

Gavroche began singing to himself, softly at first and then louder. He almost did not hear the door open behind him.

"Up so early, little boy?" someone asked.

Gavroche turned around and was about to raise his fist when he recognized the newcomer. "You! You were at the barricade...ah Monsieur Courfeyrac, how is my good patch?" he greeted cheerily.

"Your patch? That place...still full of people, Gavroche," Courfeyrac said.

"And the barricade still standing?" Gavroche asked, apparently forgetting that he was in Gillenormand's house. 

Courfeyrac glanced at Joly, who'd just followed him in. "Even better than that. Now, why don't you sit down so Monsieur Joly here can have a look at you?" Courfeyrac told the gamin.

Gavroche crossed the room and sat down on a stool. "Have you seen my sisters? Ponine, where is she? I saw her fall down"

Joly inspected Gavroche's healing head wound. "She's alive. I saw her yesterday," the medical student replied.

Gavroche's eyes widened. "Oh where can I find her? And I need to go as soon as I can to find my other sister...and my two little boys who I left in the elephant"

Joly nodded to Courfeyrac. "I think that there is no harm in letting him walk about. But what are we to do for him? I doubt that M. Gillenormand wants him here for much longer,"

"Perhaps he can stay in my flat...I doubt that Marius is coming back there for some time," Courfeyrac said with a shudder. "He's in a bad way..."

"Should have gone and pulled the bullet out myself then! Sneaky fellows," Gavroche said. "Come now, doctors, when will you let me go?" 

"Tomorrow...tomorrow should be good. And I'll bring you to your sister. I promise," Joly said, putting a hand on the gamin's shoulder. The smile that lit up Gavroche's face at these words could have rivalled the sunlight shining over the buildings that morning.  
"So what time are you planning to go to the meeting?" Combeferre asked Enjolras as the two sat in the front room of Courfeyrac's flat. Feuilly and Grantaire had gone to visit Jehan and Bahorel, while Bousset had gone to see to affairs at the Barriere Du Maine.

Enjolras checked his watch. "Noon. Are you coming?"

Combeferre shook his head. "Unless someone comes here first, I cannot leave that girl alone,"

"Whatever for?"

Combeferre got up and walked to the bedroom door. "Someone has to make sure she doesn't wander out again and open up her wounds," he said in a low voice, turning the knob.

Enjolras cautiously followed his friend into the room, which was littered with books and all kinds of sundry. On the bed, Eponine was sleeping fitfully, murmuring as she tossed and turned. Combeferre quietly pulled up a chair to the bedside.

"What is she murmuring about?" Enjolras asked after a while.

Combeferre gave him a grim look. "Marius. What that boy did to her, I do not really want to know,"

"Maybe he did nothing. That's more apt," Enjolras said, sitting down in a chair a little away from the bed. 

Combeferre felt for Eponine's pulse. "You're not leaving for three hours, are you?"

"Where are you going?" 

"To find some medicine for her at the university, and to notify Monsieur Fauchelevent that his young charge is in here. It's Number Seven, Rue de l' Homme Arme, isn't it?"

"Yes it is," Enjolras said with a nod. He was starting to feel a little panicky; he knew very little about caring for wounded people. 

"I'll be back as soon as I can. If the others return ahead, tell them," Combeferre said, closing the door behind him. 

Enjolras did not budge from his corner, and instead occupied himself with trying to organize his thoughts. He wasn't aware that he was starting to talk to himself, till Eponine stirred.

"Monsieur Marius?" she whispered.

Enjolras looked at her. "No, he's not here,"

"Who are you then?" Eponine asked. "Where am I?"

"You're in Monsieur Courfeyrac's room," Enjolras replied stiffly.

Eponine nodded, apparently recalling where she'd been when last conscious. "What's your name?"

"Enjolras," the young man said curtly. "Do you want anything...a glass of water for instance?" he asked., reaching for a nearby pitcher

Eponine shook her head and closed her eyes. "I thought for a minute that you were Monsieur Marius...oh how I miss him...where is he, if he's not here?"

Enjolras paused, wondering whether he should give away Marius' location. "At his grandfather's house. I cannot bring you there, Mademoiselle---"

"Eponine. Eponine Thenardier," the girl murmured. She opened her eyes and looked steadily at Enjolras. "You were at that barricade...making all those long speeches, telling people where to go. Oh you're so brave!"

"I only did what I was called to do," Enjolras said. _"As I do now, but not out of belief, but merely out of pity,"_ he thought.


	4. Of Two Reunions

**Of Two Reunions**

"Enjolras!"

"Go away, Courfeyrac," 

"You're sleeping in my flat. Have you and all of the others been evicted?"

Enjolras opened his eyes and glared up at his friend. "It's not my fault that Rue de la Verrerie is in the middle of everything. Or that it's here where that girl decided to end up,"

Courfeyrac shook his head chidingly. "If I recall, it was your idea that I move here in the first place. And the girl's name is Eponine. You're the one who told us that before you left for that meeting yesterday," 

Enjolras got off the floor and rubbed his eyes. He remembered that he was in Courfeyrac's living room. It was morning once again, and everyone was still asleep: Joly and Bousset were on the sofa. Combeferre, Feuilly, and Grantaire were dozing in chairs.

An eighth figure was in the room, perched on the table while eating a piece of bread. "Ah it's you," Enjolras said by way of acknowledgment.

Gavroche swallowed another mouthful of bread. "Well so the arguement's won now?"

"Not entirely yet," Enjolras said. "What have you come here for?"

"To see my sister,"

Courfeyrac shrugged. "Best we don't put off their reunion. It must have been a terrible thing for that girl to wake up to you, Enjolras," 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "And why so?" 

Courfeyrac gave him a knowing look. "I'm surprised you didn't bore her to death with your talk on politics..."

"I did not talk to her about that for two reasons: one, I doubt she'd understand such rhetoric. Secondly, I know she's got nothing else on her mind than seeing Marius again," Enjolras pointed out. 

Courfeyrac smiled. "Suit yourself," he said, opening the door. Gavroche ran in ahead of him.

Eponine was sitting up in bed. Her face was flushed, and her limp hair stuck to her face. She barely had time to comb it out of her eyes before Gavroche ran up to her bedside.

"Eponine!" the gamin greeted cheerily.

"How did you get here, Gavroche?" the girl asked hoarsely.

"Monsieur Courfeyrac brought me here. But you, Ponine? Papa hasn't been about to find you?" Gavroche replied, putting a thin hand on Eponine's forehead.

Eponine shuddered; whether from fear or fever, no one could tell. "He hasn't. I'd prefer to rest a few days before running out into the streets again,"

Nearby, Enjolras and Courfeyrac exchanged concerned looks. "Till your fever breaks, Mademoiselle, and those stitches hold, there will be no talk of going out," Enjolras said matter-of-factly.

Eponine scowled at him. "Are either of you going to see Monsieur Marius anytime soon?" she asked.

"Perhaps later," Courfeyrac said.

"Oh could you tell him where I am? Tell him to come and see me, it shall make me feel better quicker. It's good that my brother is here, but I would like to see him as soon as I can. Do I have to run for him? It would be nice for a change if he came" Eponine said brightly.

_"Not even Jehan is this exasperating when he's supposedly in love,"_ Enjolras thought. "We'll tell him," he finally said.

"Oh thank you," Eponine whispered, smiling widely at him. Enjolras took the opportunity then to excuse himself.  
Outside, M. Thenardier, known to the street as Fabantou, was making the rounds of the neighborhood. He stopped outside Number 16 and listened intently to the hubbub of young voices from an upstairs window. 

"Can it be?" he muttered gruffly. He made a mental note to find Azelma, and maybe some friends to take a better look at this particular house. For now, there were urgent matters to attend to at the Rue de l'Homme Arme.  
The day passed quickly, as it always had for the young men of the revolution ever since the first victorious morning. It was about sundown when Enjolras, with Bahorel and Jean Prouvaire in tow, returned to Courfeyrac's flat.

"So this is where you've been? I thought you all had places of your own," Bahorel commented as they slowly walked up the stairs.

"Lovely lady circumstance meets brother fraternite," Jehan said.

Enjolras managed a smile as they got to the door. "You're probably right,"

Only Feuilly was in the living room. The fanmaker was engrossed in painting an intricate script across a floral design. When the door opened, he looked up and a pleasant smile spread across his face. "Damien! Jehan! It's good to see you two again,"

Bahorel nodded. "Still alive, Gilles. It takes more than a few National Guards to take me down," 

Feuilly clapped Bahorel's shoulder. "We've always known that,"

Jehan looked around anxiously. "Where's everyone?"

"Out. Mostly arranging things at the university, or at meetings. Bousset and Gavroche went to find some food. Grantaire has gone to the countryside, supposedly to speak to some other groups there,"

"What?" Enjolras sputtered. "You mean Laurent Grantaire??"

"The one and only," Feuilly said sheepishly.

Suddenly, a scream came from the bedroom. The men rushed in to find Eponine cowering in a corner, wrapped in a blanket. Her face was deathly pale, and her hands covered her eyes.

"Eponine! What's happened?" Feuilly asked.

"He's here! I can't stay! It's too dangerous!" Eponine gasped, pointing to the window. "I saw him! He was staring at me, looking as if he was coming to get me again. Like he did before I went to the barricade...like he almost did when I stopped him and the rest of Patron-Minette from robbing the Rue de Plumet!"

"Who?" Enjolras asked. 

"Parnasse," Eponine whispered.


	5. Appear, Disappear

**Appear, Disappear**

_a month later, at the Sorbonne_

In the university, there were many nooks to hide in. One particularly secretive one could be found in the eaves of the library.

It was here that Pierre Montparnasse decided to sit to devour a 'well-earned' crust of bread. Through the most ingenious ways, he'd managed to sneak onto the campus, upon the direction of Brujon. It had not been easy; the dandy had torn his best coat in trying to climb the fence, and had nearly been discovered several times after. 

"University students are always easy to swipe from," Montparnasse said with a smirk that looked chilling in the afternoon light. He held the bread in both of his hands; a habit that hailed back to his days as an innocent gamin.

Montparnasse heard some footsteps from the room under him. The young assassin covered his face with a ratty scarf as he crept over to a peephole.

He got a good view of rows of desks, where knots of students conversed or argued. Most of them carried heavy books; a few sported tricolored ribbons on some of their personal belongings.

Montparnasse shook his head with contempt. "These boys won't use half of what they get in these dusty places," he muttered. He wrung his hands as he searched for the people that Brujon, Azelma, and M. Thenardier had pointed out to him so long ago.

Unlike some other members of the underworld, Montparnasse always took care to shadow his targets. At any point in time, he had two lists of people in mind: one set he would deal with immediately, the other he would patiently follow till he could track them with his eyes closed.

Today, this particular group was shifting from the second category to the first. However, just to be certain, Montparnasse had taken the great risk of coming to the Sorbonne. He smiled cruelly as he caught sight of a slight young man with rather shabbily outdated clothing. This boy had ink stains on his hands. He was conversing with a taller, golden-haired student, who was carrying a good many folders and folios on top of a book marked "The Social Contract". 

"Brujon was right. They are all too easy to find," Montparnasse laughed as he got out of his hiding place.

Back on the Rue de la Verrerie, Courfeyrac had just returned from a gruelling round of classes, and was eager to freshen up before a night full of billiards, dinner, and maybe a few grisettes.

He expected to find someone in his apartment when he opened the door. Ever since Eponine's little scare (which Feuilly and Enjolras had dismissed as delusion, Joly as hunger, and Combeferre as vivid delirium), Courfeyrac and his friends took turns staying with Eponine and Gavroche. Somehow, the effect of having company had a good effect on the health and recovery of the two wretched Thenardier children, especially Eponine.

"Yesterday, she was practically giddy when Joly announced that she would soon be fit to walk about," Courfeyrac laughed as he opened the door. The silence that greeted him was deafening.

"Gavroche? Eponine? Bousset? Grantaire?" Courfeyrac called. He shook his head as he went through the living room. Everything was just as he and his friends had left it. Courfeyrac knocked on the bedroom door before opening it tentatively.

The window was open, and the bedsheets were bundled up in a corner. None of Gavroche's sundry items, or Eponine's things were lying around.

"God in heaven, where did they go?" Courfeyrac asked aloud, setting down his books and heading out the door.  
Jean Valjean never made it such a habit to go out walking late. However, with Cosette insisting not to go, and him restless, he found it better to go about and take a look once again at the goings-ons in Paris.

He roundded a corner and stopped at the intersection of an alley which cut across one of the streets outside the university. The old man stopped at the sound of familiar voices and took care to conceal his face as he sat down on a bench and pretended to read a newspaper he'd brought with him. 

"Courfeyrac forgot these in the library," Jehan said, shaking his head as he struggled to hang on to all the books in his arms.

"Oui, that is just like Courfeyrac," Enjolras muttered. "Always on the move..."

Jehan clucked his tongue. "Remember the time you were so eager to practice the violin..."

Enjolras glared at his friend. "That was years ago. Then, I didn't have better things to do," 

"Do you still play?"

"Not often," 

Jehan nodded. "What are these?" he asked, gesturing to the folios that he and his friend were carrying as they walked down the street, not noticing the man on the bench.

"Cases," Enjolras replied. "Professors make us study all of these to look for precedents, decide what we would have done if presented with a similar case...it is sometimes interesting, but also sickening," 

"Bad judgements. Oh Justice!" Jehan muttered.

At this, Jean Valjean lowered his paper to get a look at the two young men walking. As he did so, he caught sight of something dark darting across the alley.

"An understatement," Enjolras said, trying to balance a particularly hefty file. "Like take this one: Prisoner 24601, a galley slave in Toulon. Nineteen years for stealing a loaf of bread. Nineteen years lost for trying to feed a starving family. He died some years after being released from the galleys,"

Jehan winced. "Awful. What was his name?" 

"I forget. It sounded like..." Enjolras began before his next words were drowned out by a warning shout.

"Look behind you!"

The revolutionaries had only enough time to avoid the first sweep of the knife that flashed towards them


	6. Of Noxious Wretches

**Of Noxious Wretches**

_"Look out!"_

Jehan practically leapt to one side of the curb, while Enjolras managed to get into the street. Enjolras swung around to sock their attacker right in the jaw and send him reeling, just before another figure grabbed the assasin from behind.

"Let go, you brute!" Montparnasse roared as he tried to get out of Jean Valjean's iron grip on his arms, which were now behind his back.

Jehan lost no time in relieving Montparnasse of his knife. "We can't thank you enough Monsieur..."

"Fauchevelent," Valjean replied in an undertone.

"For the second time in a few months, I'm in your debt," Enjolras said, nodding to Valjean gratefully. 

Montparnasse gave his captors a murderous glare. "I know all of you. You think you can take men like us down so easily, but you'll see whose knife is sharper," he muttered.

Enjolras stared at Montparnasse coldly. "Justice can be cruel when you ask for it, Monsieur," he said, noticing a policeman coming up to them.

"I'm Inspector Dufour. What is going on here?" the newcomer asked. He was portly and practically bursting out of his coat. He chewed on his cigar as he scuffed his shoe.

"This man here tried to attack us with a knife," Jehan replied. 

"Oho, but I see you holding it," Dufour said, pointing to the knife in Jehan's hand. "You're in trouble, young man..."

"He took it off this assassin," Enjolras said, coming to Jehan's defense. "I can attest to that,"

Dufour's eyes narrowed at Enjolras. "What, you believe his story?" he said to Valjean.

Valjean nodded. "Their story is true. I saw them being attacked," 

Dufour sighed. "You law students. Always finding loopholes---"

"But we're telling the truth!" Enjolras broke in.

Dufour glared at the student. "Fine, if it appeases you, I'll take this assailant out of here. Bloody revolutionary you might be..." he trailed off before reaching down to grab Montparnasse's collar with one hand, and the knife with the other. "Now if you gentlemen..."

Jehan looked around. "Where did Monsieur Fauchevelent go?" he asked. 

Enjolras looked around the little group, and realized that Valjean was nowhere to be seen. "He must have had some business somewhere," he said by way of explanation. However, in his tone, it was evident that he was trying to convince himself more than Jehan or Dufour.

_"Strange as it is, it's all good for him, since he won't have such a long night ahead. To think it's a Monday today..."_ he thought. If there was one thing he disliked more than royalists, it was a corrupt law enforcer.

_Wednesday_

Eponine collapsed onto a heap of rags in the end of the alley and tried to wipe away the sweat that still lingered all over her. "Why am I even putting myself through this?" she wondered aloud as she felt the weight of the coins in her pocket.

Almost as soon as she had left Courfeyrac's flat, she'd regretted it. However it was her need to find Marius that kept her on the street, and it was hunger that was putting her flat on her back.

Eponine took a deep breath to compose herself. In the darkness, she was a sorry sight in her tattered coat that covered up her blouse and darned skirt. The first thing she'd done upon reaching the district was to let down the hem of a cuff on the coat in order to conceal her still bandaged hand. She had found a pair of cracked boots in a rubbish heap; at least her feet were no longer so sore from walking barefoot on the pavement.

"What is Gavroche up to now?" she wondered. They'd last parted company the day before; him to see to his momes, while she to try to find some bread at their next meeting. "We're supposed to see each other the day after tomorrow,"

She shut her eyes to prevent the tears from spilling. In the past two days, she'd endured indignity after indignity from the women who plied their trade in the streets to the men who sneered at her and taunted her plain looks. "No one wants me. That's always been the case," she said hoarsely. 

Eponine got to her feet as she heard footsteps coming. She made sure to wipe her face on her skirt and to untangle her matted auburn hair. She dusted off her hands before stepping out of the alley and under the light of a lamp.

"Good evening Monsieur," she said, briefly glancing at the young man before her. She smiled as he gave her a once-over, then pulled her towards yet another dark corner.

_"I'm really the worst wretch of them all..."_ Eponine thought as she reentered the shadow.


	7. Discovery

**Discovery**

Later in that same week, an Assembly was set to convene near Notre Dame. On the day itself, Enjolras had planned on going early to the appointed place, hoping to speak with some of the leaders of the Courgarde d' Aix, and also a few of his friends.

Instead, he found himself down in a crowded street, a good deal out of the way from Notre Dame. "And it's all because I have to go after that damned Winecask, what with all the papers he's supposed to be carrying and probably left behind!" he cursed as he looked around the street lined with brothels and cafes. Courfeyrac, Bahorel, and Feuilly were also combing Paris for the miscreant. However, Enjolras figured out that on a weekend, Grantaire had only one place to go.

The revolutionary took care to put his hat lower over his face, and to wear his collar turned up. While he did not feel so much repugnance towards the people in this district, he did not want anyone to have the wrong ideas about his presence in the area. After glancing in a window to see that he was sufficiently disguised, Enjolras continued walking up the winding road, listening for a tell-tale ramble. He carefully avoided the eyes of the various grisettes who waved or called out to him.

In his hurry, he almost bowled over a stocky fellow seated on a stool in the gutter. "My apologies, Monsieur," Enjolras said, helping the man up.

"Apologies? You almost made me drop my last sous!" the man spat in a harsh voice that could have easily belonged to some old, grizzled veteran. However, a closer look showed that this unfortunate was only a few years older than Enjolras.

"I did not mean to," Enjolras said politely.

"As sure as my name is Gervais, you did!" the stranger hissed. Alcohol was on his breath. "Well, never mind that. I'd best go find somewhere..."

"Monsieur, have you seen a man go about in this area? Dark hair, unshaven, perhaps walking with a stagger and speaking very loudly?" Enjolras asked.

Gervais shook his head. "Don't know one fellow from another here," he grumbled before disappearing into a cafe.

Enjolras gritted his teeth with frustration. _"If the Assembly starts by the time I find Grantaire, I'm going to make him regret he ever stepped into Cafe Musain," _he thought as he stepped over heaps of refuse that had been scattered across the street. His reverie was taking dangerous turns when suddenly, a figure darted out of an alley and right into his path.

"Good day, Monsieur. Would you care for some company?" the young girl asked in a voice that was meant to be throaty. She was dressed in a shabby coat that barely concealed her thin chemise.

Enjolras did not even look at her as he stepped to the side. He had not even gone a few paces when he felt a tug on his sleeve. "Monsieur, are you sure you do not wish for me to stay with you?" the girl said more plaintively. 

"Go your way, mademoiselle. I am not here for your company," Enjolras said coldly.

The girl stepped in front of him. "I haven't eaten in two days...my clothes are full of holes! I'll do anything, you can pay me even just a sou, please!" she begged, grabbing his arm with both her hands.

Something in her touch made Enjolras' skin crawl. He seized her left hand and turned it palm up. In the middle of the girl's hand was a rough circular scar. "Eponine Thenardier," he muttered. 

"Enjolras! What are you doing here?" Grantaire shouted from up the street. Eponine's eyes widened and she turned to flee, but before she could run, Grantaire had reached her and Enjolras.

Enjolras' eyes narrowed at Grantaire. "The question is what are you doing here. You said you'd go to the meeting, and this time, you knew people were counting on you to show up," he said slowly.

Grantaire glanced from Enjolras, then to Eponine. "Why I never thought I'd see the day that Enjolras would grace this part of Paris with his presence! You can do so much better than her, my friend...look at that grisette in green. Then again, you always had something for those who needed the most pity,"

Eponine turned scarlet. "If I'd known it was you, Monsieur Enjolras, I wouldn't have..."

"As is to be expected," Enjolras retorted coldly.

Grantaire shook his head. "There you go again Antoine, scaring off the ladies..."

"Enough, Grantaire!" Enjolras snapped. "You and I are leaving this place, and going to that Assembly. You know where your duty lies now,"

"I'd better go..." Eponine whispered.

Grantaire took her arm. "Well mademoiselle, you cannot stay here. Not fitting for someone who's been in our company for such a time. Perhaps you could come with us..."

"Grantaire, you cannot expect her to sit in at the Assembly," Enjolras pointed out.

Eponine looked down. "I'm still hungry...don't understand anything of what that Assembly is about, except to plan a republic as you say," 

Enjolras tried to think of an excuse to leave Eponine there, but his better sense took over. He forced himself to look Eponine in the eye. "Fine then. You can come with us, Eponine, and we'll give you something to eat. Then you're not coming back here..." 

"But what else can I do?" Eponine whispered. "No job, no home..."

"Why in the first place did you leave Courfeyrac's place?" Enjolras demanded. "After all that happened, only to come back here?"

Eponine bit her lip. "I need to find Monsieur Marius, but I need to eat. And sleep. And there's Vroche who I have to look out for. Monsieurs, I really have nowhere else to go,"

Enjolras tried to think of something to say, but he found the reality of Eponine's situation too daunting. "Come with us. We'll find something for you," he managed to say.

_"It's for the sake of egalite. I'd do the same for someone else too,"_


	8. What He Does Not Mean

**What He Does Not Mean**

Throughout the assembly, Eponine had contented herself with sitting in a corner, polishing off the biggest meal she'd had in a week. She ate slowly, firstly in order not to be sick, and secondly so she could listen in for any news of Marius. 

However, she found herself getting more than an earful of politics, and news from all parts of France. "Seems like trouble is still going to brew. Why do they fight if it's going to mean something harder in the future?" she asked Jean Prouvaire when he stopped to greet her.

"Because, Mademoiselle Eponine, there is always a dawn to look forward to," Jehan replied with a smile.

"Dawn?"

"He's speaking as a poet," Bahorel explained. "But it's because people like you do not deserve to live as you do now,"

Eponine rolled her eyes, remembering what had transpired earlier between her and Enjolras. "So I've heard before," she only said.

_"But maybe I deserve to live like this because of helping out Patron-Minette...or being awful to the Lark when we were little...or something I don't know of. In any case, I don't see why if Monsieur Marius won't look at me, why should these young men care?"_

Eponine shook her head. Jean Prouvaire was strange, Grantaire was a drunk, and Enjolras seemed to detest her from the day they met. Only Marius would matter.  
The next day, being a Sunday, was supposedly a day for quiet pursuits for most bourgeoisie. For Courfeyrac, it was supposed to be a day for studying. However, while he was in the middle of a difficult passage, his landlady burst in.

"Monsieur Courfeyrac, you and your lady friend had better leave for a night or two," the lady snapped. "I'm planning to have this place dusted thoroughly!"

Courfeyrac groaned. "Madame Vigny, I have to study!"

"And this house nees cleaning. Shoo!" the concierge retorted, raising her voice.

Courfeyrac shook his head, deciding not to argue. He began to grudgingly gather his things, and some of the items that his friends had left behind. He put on his coat amid the crone's haranguing him about his habits, his revolutionary beliefs, and his dragging a gamine into the house.

It was at this point that Eponine (unwisely) chose to enter the flat. "Monsieur Courfeyrac, are we going to see Monsieur Marius today?" she asked.

Madame Vigny glared at her. "Are you mad, girl? You're going visiting when you're leaving lice in my house?!" 

"I do not have lice, at least not anymore!" Eponine said angrily.

Courfeyrac took her arm. "We'll go see Marius today. But we're going to have to find er...different lodgings,"

They both headed out into the street and took a fiacre towards the Rue des Filles du Calvaire.

"Seems as if we're not the only ones with the same idea," Courfeyrac remarked as they alighted at the gate of M. Gillenormand's house. "If that's not Bousset's bald head I see at the window, then last night's stout was stronger than I expected!"

Basque recognized Courfeyrac, and so the newcomers had an easy time gaining admittance upstairs. At the end of the hallway, a door was half open. Four voices, namely those of Grantaire, Feuilly, Joly, and Bousset, could be heard conversing from within the room.

"Bonjour mes amis!" Courfeyrac greeted cheerily as he entered the room with Eponine in tow.

"About time you came," Feuilly remarked, noticing his friend.

Courfeyrac nodded as he crossed the room. "And how are you doing, Marius?" 

"Better," Marius replied weakly. He was sitting up in bed, and looking almost as he did on a normal day, save for his bandages and slight pallor. "Courfeyrac, I'd like you to meet Mademoiselle Cosette," he said, smiling to the beautiful woman seated at his bedside. "Cosette, my friend Courfeyrac. He's the one I spoke to you about, who sheltered me when I first left this house,"

"Charmed to meet you at last, Mademoiselle. Marius speaks so well of you," Courfeyrac said to Cosette as he kissed her hand.

Cosette smiled warmly. "It's so kind of you to have helped out my Marius so...Eponine, is that you over there?"

Courfeyrac turned and remembered that Eponine had been with him. The young gamine had watched this entire interlude with her mouth set in a tight line, but the sadness still showed in her eyes. "Ah so I see you two are acquainted?" Courfeyrac asked, feeling the tension in the air.

"Since childhood," Eponine said quickly. "I'm glad you're better, Monsieur Marius," she said, trying not to choke on her words. 

"Thank you for giving me Cosette's letter," Marius said. "It made all the difference, Eponine,"

"Anything for your happiness," Eponine whispered. _"But what about me?"_ she wanted to scream.


	9. Unseen

**Unseen**

While all this had happened, where was Gavroche?

After meeting with Eponine on Thursday evening, he'd continued searching for the children he'd taken in so long ago. At last, on Friday evening, he struck gold.

He found them seated on the Rue de St. Martin, looking almost as he'd last seen them, save that their clothes had larger holes, and perhaps they were a little thinner. "Ah momes! There you are!" Gavroche had greeted.

The bigger of the two boys had laughed, the younger had only nodded. This strange response though was enough for Gavroche; he promptly dragged them back to the elephant.

On Sunday, as he'd promised Eponine again, Gavroche ventured out to the Rue de la Verrerie. And he brought the two children with him.

Madame Vigny had found them there, and chased them away with a broom. "If you're looking for that dirty wench, you'd best look elsewhere!" she screeched. She'd just chased off Courfeyrac and Eponine fifteen minutes before.

"Now what will we do?" the older of the boys asked Gavroche.

Gavroche scratched his head. "No problem. We shall have to find some other roof. Ah very well, follow me. Another adventure," he said simply.

Their wanderings brought them out to another street, the Rue de Richelieu. This was a rather long street where all kinds of people lived; a microcosm of the rapidly flourishing Republic. It was no wonder that here, many revolutionaries passed by, met, or even lived.

Gavroche picked up a good sized rock and had been about to fling it in a half-open window when a harsh hand grabbed his arm. "Don't do that, brat!" a girl hissed at him. Judging by the calluses on her hands, she was a washerwoman.

"Why and who so-and-so lives there?" Gavroche asked saucily.

The washerwoman let go of him. "Two students. Monsieur Enjolras and Monsieur Combeferre. Both now heroes of this Republic. What poor thanks you give them!"

Gavroche brightened. "Ah so are they there now?"

"Haven't seen them in a few days," the woman replied. "Well, Monsieur Enjolras returns sometimes to see to things here. He and Monsieur Combeferre stopped by last night, but they've gone out,"

Gavroche nodded. "Ah, I'll wait with my momes then,"

Before he could be stopped, he'd brought the boys up into the house that the washerwoman had pointed out: Number Twelve. They sat in a row on the staircase, quietly looking out over the street.

"Monsieur, what is your name?" the younger boy asked Gavroche.

"Gavroche. And yours, kid?"

"Jacques,"

"And I'm Neville. Once known as Magnon," the older one chimed in. "And you...it is not just Gavroche, isn't it?"

"Gavroche of the streets, Gavroche, what does it matter?" Gavroche said cheerily. "And names like Magnon mean nothing in the outside...hush, someone is a coming!"

They listened with pricked ears to the footsteps from outside.

"Bonjour Mademoiselle de Vaux," Combeferre's voice said, not losing its usual amiability and elegance.

"Good you've come back. There were three dirty gamins asking for you both," Mademoiselle de Vaux replied in her bitter tone. "And I see you've brought a fourth?"

"If you do not mind, I shall go in first," said a third voice, that of Enjolras.

Gavroche stood up. "Good morn there sir. Forgive me for keeping your door," he greeted Enjolras. "And good day to you too, Ponine!" he added, noticing the girl who'd entered just after the revolutionary. 

Enjolras nodded to Gavroche. "Who are these boys? Your brothers?"

"Brothers? They're my momes," Gavroche grinned.

Eponine stared at the little boys. "Mon frere, they are our brothers. Oh you were small then, Vroche, when Mamma sent them away to Magnon. And I'm sure you won't remember me, you two...big Ponine, your oldest sister,"

"Sister?" Neville asked quizzically. "But I thought..."

"You're too little to remember," Eponine laughed. "Isn't it funny, Monsieur Enjolras? To have brothers and sisters not remembering each other?"

"Perhaps it is, and perhaps it isn't," Enjolras said, walking past the entire group in order to get to the rooms upstairs.

"Don't you have any of your own?" Jacques piped up.

"No," Enjolras replied, unlocking the door to the flat he shared with Combeferre.

Gavroche looked at Eponine. "How have you come here?"

Eponine sighed. "Oh we all went to see Monsieur Marius. But that Mamselle Cosette was there, so I..." she trailed off. She fought to compose herself. "Anyway, Monsieur Courfeyrac is staying with Monsieur Prouvaire, and I would have gone too, but Monsieur Combeferre said that there was more room here. I can stay till I find a better place to live, and work. Though what work that could be, I do not know,"

Gavroche bit his lip thoughtfully. "May we stay too?" he asked Enjolras.

Enjolras hesitated, then nodded. He opened the door to the flat and motioned for Combeferre to join them. "We shall have to make do with six in this place," he told his friend in an undertone.

Combeferre smiled. "Think of it as repaying your debts,"

"I expected you to come up with a more chimeric rationalization," 

"Do I need to always?"

A laugh tugged at the corners of Enjolras' lips, but he quickly became somber again.


	10. Perspectives: I

**Perspective: Part 1**

After getting everyone settled in, Enjolras quickly busied himself with trying to finish the papers and schoolwork he'd put off for two weeks. He had to make sure to hide away all the political tracts and discourses he'd been reading as part of his work with politics and the revolution.

As he wrote, he did not hear the doors opening and shutting behind him, or the laughter of the young Thenardiers. He was vaguely aware of Combeferre grabbing a sheet of paper from a nearby table, and later of his friend reminding him that he had to eat dinner some time in the evening.

It was late at night when Enjolras put down his pen and looked around the now quiet flat. His eyes felt like they were on fire, and his fingers were numb. _"Combeferre and Joly are right. I might be working too hard,"_ he thought as he stretched and put aside his papers. 

Combeferre, who was still working at a table, smiled at him cheerily. "About time you stopped,"

"I had to finish. Or Professor Blondeau will give me more work to do," Enjolras replied wearily. His hands shook as he got himself a glass of water.

"The price we pay," Combeferre remarked. "If all goes well, and we all finish our studies, we'll be free to do more than we can do now,"

"I can't wait for that day, Francois," Enjolras said, managing a smile. 

Combeferre nodded sympathetically. "Get some sleep, Antoine. By the way, I let the two little boys use my bed. And Eponine is borrowing yours. Gavroche wanted the bench, so that leaves us the floor,"

Enjolras was too tired to complain, but he couldn't resist glaring at his friend before going to change out of his clothes. He heard someone stir nearby, and he looked up to see Eponine tossing and turning in her sleep. Her flowing brown hair was splayed across the pillows, and she murmured something incoherently. 

Enjolras tried not to listen to her as he rummaged for his things, but he couldn't help but hear names: "Montparnasse," "Papa," "Mama," and "Azelma".

_"Where is her father anyway? Does he even know that four of his children are here?"_ he wondered.

He made a resolution in the morning to ask Eponine about it. Even if it would be difficult, he had to get to the bottom of the mystery. More urgently though, he would have to help her find some place to live. Six people living in two rooms was proving to be trying.


	11. Perspectives: II

**Perspectives II**

Eponine had always been a fitful sleeper.

At the crack of dawn, she found herself wide awake and staring at the ceiling and the threads of light playing across it. She could hear Combeferre snoring on the floor near the other bed in the room, the one that was occupied by her two youngest brothers.

_"This all has to be a dream..."_ she told herself. For some time before the barricade, she'd wondered a bit about what had become of Neville and Jacques after Magnon's disappearance. Now, the two boys were safe and sound, and with her. And even more strangely, she and Gavroche had lived through it all.

Eponine tried to clench her left hand into a fist, but had to stop because of the pain that shot up into her arm at the effort. "It's never going to heal," she murmured as she got out of bed. She walked to the window to inspect her hand in the slowly brightening light. She felt almost sickened at the sight of the reddish skin that had barely closed the gaping hole in her hand. She knew that the bones there had not set properly, thus accounting for the difficulty in movement. 

"Monsieurs Enjolras and Combeferre must be at least bourgeoisie to afford a place this nice," she said in a whisper as she looked around the comfortably furnished flat. The place was filled with books; some were huge volumes used for schoolwork, others Eponine recognized as pamphlets that could be bought for a few sous in the street.

She smoothed down the clothes she wore; nothing more than a simple white dress that one of Courfeyrac's many lady friends had left in someone's flat. Eponine tiptoed into the next room, which served as a living room and a kitchen. She noticed Gavroche still asleep on a long seat. Enjolras was nearby, rolling up a blanket that was on the floor.

She shook her head at the sight of him. He had resisted her attempt to seduce him, but she ended up in his flat anyway, and had slept in his bed. At his expense, of course. "What kind of man pulls a wretch like me off the street for nothing?" she wondered aloud.

"A man who believes in honor, you mean," Enjolras replied, not looking at her.

Eponine crossed her arms. "The kind of man who'd lead a barricade for a Republic," she muttered. She didn't understand what exactly that meant, but it was the truth.

"For France. For equality, and for the future," Enjolras added. "Did you know what we were fighting for on that day?"

Eponine hung her head. She wanted to say 'yes', but that would have been a lie. She somehow knew that it would be futile and maybe cruel to deceive"this handsome young man with her.

I'm afraid I do not understand," she mumured. She looked straight at him. "But could you tell me?"

"Why would you want to know?"

"If Marius was willing to die for something...I'd like to know what it was,"

Enjolras sat down near a small table. Wordlessly, Eponine took the seat next to his. They sat together for a time in an awkward silence, born out of a forced camaraderie.

"It's for people like you that we had to fight," Enjolras said firmly.

"What would you care? You're a bourgeoisie, at least. You go to school, I know. You can do so much more than go fight for gamins and thieves," Eponine said confusedly.

Enjolras shook his head. "Marius told me once that you could read and write,"

Eponine nodded, not realizing the smile that was spreading across her face. "My parents taught me," she said proudly. "We used to own an inn in Montfermeil,"

Enjolras, for the first time in a few days, looked her in the eye. A strange combination of pensiveness and wonder was on his face. "There's still some hope yet, Mademoiselle," he said.


	12. Of Don Quixote and Insanity

**Of Don Quixote and Insanity**

Usually, Enjolras and Combeferre would meet up with Courfeyrac, Joly, and Jehan on the way to the university. On this morning however, only Courfeyrac happened to be at the usual street corner.

"Joly says he's got a sort of inflammation in his brain. Jehan told Feuilly to tell me that he'd be late today," Courfeyrac explained when Combeferre asked. 

Enjolras gave them a knowing look. "He claimed he was coming down with the measles during the barricade."

"I saw you talking with Eponine this morning," Combeferre said more brightly.

Enjolras nodded grimly. "I do not think she understands what all these past few months have been about," 

"The revolution or us and Monsieur Fauchelevent caring for her?" Combeferre asked.

"Both,"

"I don't think she's entirely right in the head," Combeferre observed. "At least she's more lucid than when we first saw her, but she's got some way to go before she can safely manage on her own."

Courfeyrac smiled widely. "You know, I think under other circumstances, she'd be rather pretty,"

"Don't start, Maurice," Enjolras said sternly.

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow. "I know you well enough to see when you're trying to deny something. You like her,"

"No," 

"Not even in the way that Don Quixote liked Aldonza in Cervantes' paper behemoth?"

Enjolras gave Courfeyrac an irritated glare. "I have better things to do than to woo women, especially her. She already loves someone,"

"Who is practically engaged to Mademoiselle Fauchelevent," Courfeyrac added.

Enjolras shrugged. "Anyhow, I think we should help her find a job of some sort. She can read and write; that should be enough even with her hand maimed,"

Combeferre gave his friends a relieved look. "There's a shop that needs someone to do some printing and noting for them. It's not far from the Rue de Filles du Calvaire,"

"That sounds fine, save for one thing," Courfeyrac said.

"Which is?" Enjolras asked.

"Location,"  
Back on the Rue de Richelieu, Eponine rummaged for her coat and hat. 

"Now you three had better stay inside. Don't let in anyone you don't know, don't make a mess, and don't make much noise!" she said to Gavroche, who was sitting on the table. Neville and Jacques were scribbling on some used sheets of paper.

"Where are you going, Ponine?" Gavroche asked.

"Just to ah...find something," Eponine replied. She counted out the coins in her hand. Combeferre had given her enough money for some clothing, and also to buy some lunch for herself and her brothers.

Gavroche bit into a crust of bread. "You're always looking for something...or someone,"

Eponine ignored Gavroche's jibe as she hurried out into the street. She'd made sure to memorize the route to her destination. "Better walk there. No use spending on a fiacre," she said to herself. The sun was out, and the day seemed to be brighter than usual.

She did not hear the discussions and murmurs of consititutions and facts. Her mind was fixed only on the imposing gate she had to pass.

At last, she arrived at the Rue de Filles du Calvaire. She ran the last few yards to the gate of Number 6. She rapped on the gate with her right hand. 

"Bonjour Mademoiselle," Nicolette greeted. "Who are you here to see?"

"Monsieur Marius," Eponine answered breathlessly. Nicolette had barely gotten the gate open when Eponine rushed in. She scampered up the stairs and up into the hall. The door to Marius' room was open, meaning that he was awake.

"Monsieur Marius?" she asked, peering into the door. Marius was dressed for the day and sitting up in bed, reading.

He looked at her in surprise. "Eponine? How did you get here?"

Eponine entered the room and stood at the foot of his bed. "I missed you. Ah, don't you remember me a little?"

"Of course I do," Marius said, sounding a little uncomfortable at having to talk to her. "So where have you been staying all this time?"

"With Monsieurs Enjolras and Combeferre. Gavroche is with me, but I'd really rather be staying---" Eponine began till Marius sat up straighter in bed in order to greet someone who'd just arrived. 

Eponine didn't even have to turn around to realize what had happened. "Ah, bonjour, Lark," she muttered under her breath.


	13. Is This What You Had to Go Through?

**Is This What You Had To Go Through?**

Cosette was at the bedside in a few moments. "Good morning, Marius! And you're up early, Eponine," she greeted without rancor in her voice, but her face was perplexed. She wore her usual black damask dress, and a white mantle. Her hair fell in well-arranged curls, and her eyes were bright.

Eponine looked at Cosette coldly. "I think you'd want me to go now," the younger girl said bitterly as she turned on her heel. "Au revoir," she added over her shoulder as she pushed the door open.

"Eponine!" Cosette exclaimed, following her out. Cosette grabbed the gamine's arm gently. "What exactly have I done to you?"

Eponine hung her head. "You already have him. Can't you leave me alone? Clearly, he doesn't love me!" she muttered, not looking at Cosette.

Cosette sighed. "Marius told me it was you who gave him my address at the Rue Plumet. For that alone, you have my thanks,"

Eponine faced her. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. "I tried...I didn't want to give it at first, but it would make him happy, so I did. You have no idea how much that hurt, Cosette. And I nearly died for him at the barricade. I sent him there, hoping---"

"You almost got him killed then." Cosette murmured.

"I know. But when that musket was pointed at him, I had to protect him. I had to do it, even if I wasn't sure if he'd follow me not long after if I managed to die," Eponine said slowly. "See, I can't even die properly. I really don't know why I haven't been turned out into the street yet. I'm not even helping someone like what you did for my parents---"

"Your parents were terrible to me," Cosette said. Her voice suddenly became so far off. "Don't you remember? I was always cold. You and Azelma were always pulling my hair and you hardly let me play with you," She smiled painedly at the memories that were clearly coming back to mind. "But we were very young then. I don't think either of us knew any better...all I was waiting for was for my mother to come for me," 

"Now you're the one wearing the fine dresses," Eponine said. "And my mother is dead now. You ever find yours?" 

"She's gone too," Cosette said sadly. "I'm sorry about your mother,"

"She died in prison," Eponine replied harshly. "Died without Papa, Zelma, or me to comfort her. She was in Saint-Lazare."

Cosette nodded. "So where's Azelma now?"

Eponine shrugged. "I really don't know. Maybe she's living with Papa now. I have Gavroche and my other brothers Neville and Jacques. You wouldn't know them, Cosette. They were born after you left,"

Cosette smiled. "How old are they?"

"Seven and five, I think," Eponine answered after a time. It had taken some remembering that wasn't easy to do at the moment, not with all the confusion she was feeling. "I have to go now. Stay with Marius for me, will you?" she asked.

"He'll be fine. I hope you'll meet Marius and me again soon," Cosette said lightly. Eponine nodded and ran down the hall., down the stairway and out the door.

As soon as she was in the street again, Eponine sat down on a doorstep and huddled her knees to her chest. She didn't notice the sign up above her that mentioned the need for help in the bookshop.

"The world always turns upside down," she said with a sigh. In her mind, there was the girl she used to be and the little wretched Lark, now transforming into the destitute gamine and the lady who had everything. It seemed so unnatural, and so awful at once.

"It's so unfair. I also deserved a good life. Not this hell of living off robbery, of waiting for people to be kind to me, of a hand that won't heal, teeth that won't grow back, and seeing her with Monsieur Marius..." Eponine said angrily to herself.

"Cosette won't have to work a day in her life. I'm going to have to take care of my brothers. But what can I do? I don't think that those boys are going to keep on giving me money, and I don't want to keep making Monsieur Enjolras sleep on the floor..." she said as she dusted off her dress and coat.

Saying Enjolras' name brought a certain warmth to her cheeks. "He's such a foolish boy, but he says that he fights for people like me," Eponine whispered. 

_"And I don't know what that means, but I think it's a good thing,"_


	14. A Command of Responsibility

**A Command of Responsibility**

"Mademoiselle, would you excuse me?" 

Eponine looked up from her reverie, straight into the face of a tall man standing in the street outside the bookshop. This young fellow was dressed in an army officer's uniform, and he had an amused smile on his face.

"Oh. What would you want to go in for?" Eponine asked, reluctant to move. from her seat on the doorstep. "It is just a bookshop."

The officer gave her a curious look "I have an errand to run, Mademoiselle." 

Eponine stared at him, wondering at the strange familiarity this young man's face had. "You remind me of someone," she said quietly.

"Who might that be?"

"A friend. His name is Marius Pontmercy."

The officer laughed. "He is my cousin. My name is Theodule."

"And I'm Eponine." the girl said, smiling amiably. "I just came from visiting Monsieur Marius. I think he has company now though." 

"Company?" Theodule asked. "We'll see about that. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Eponine." 

"And you too!" Eponine said cheerily, getting up to go before she became in great danger of saying something she'd regret.  
The rest of the day passed very slowly, made only more oppressive by the summer heat.

_"At least it's still light out,"_ Enjolras thought as he arrived back on the Rue de Richelieu after class. It was late afternoon, but he figured it was still safe enough to finish up the rest of the errands he had to accomplish.

"There's that debate about a Constitution...about who should draft what, or whether there should be one at all," he said to himself. He shook his head. At his age, he knew that he was not the best candidate for the leadership of the Republic, but he knew that his role in the uprising almost thrust him into a position of authority.

"Perhaps a Constitution would not be so bad, that is if it can be ensured that the rights of all will be protected. Laws will have to be made, but if people do not follow..." he mused. He made a note to read up on Rousseau and Locke the first chance he got. A convention was likely to be called any day,

Gavroche and Neville were playing on the stairs when he entered the tenement. "Look Monsieur! I've gotten faster than he is!" Neville exclaimed from the top of the stairs, where he'd overtaken Gavroche.

Enjolras stepped out of the way to let Gavroche climb the stairs. "Be careful, both of you," he said to the boys.

Gavroche made a face. "These stairs won't fall under me!" he grinned, stepping on a rather creaky tread.

"Is Combeferre home yet?" Enjolras asked.

Gavroche and Neville exchanged a look. "No, but our sister is." Gavroche said after a few moments.

_"At least I can get one thing done."_ Enjolras thought. He steeled himself to knock on the door.

"Go away, Gavroche!" Eponine shouted from inside.

"It's not Gavroche here," Enjolras replied, trying not to sound too irritated.

Moments later, Eponine opened the door, looking very abashed. "Oh it's you, Monsieur Enjolras. You're back quite early," she said. 

Enjolras nodded politely. "Mademoiselle, do you recall what I said about finding some occupation for you?"

"Well, yes?" Eponine asked. "What can I do that won't strain my hand?"

"There's a vacancy in a bookshop, not too far away." Enjolras said, entering the flat in order to set down his books. "You can write, you can read, so you might find this to your liking."

Eponine nodded., apparently trying to make sense of Enjolras' news. "So...we're going to see to that _now_?"

"Yes." Enjolras replied. "Before the evening."

Eponine quickly smoothed down her dress and ran her hands through her hair. "Do I look fine, Monsieur Enjolras?"

"Presentable." Enjolras said. He tried to keep a straight face as he recalled Courfeyrac's comment. _"Not pretty...definitely not!"_ he reminded himself as he let Eponine walk out the door ahead of him.

On their way down, they ran into Combeferre. "Where are you both going?" the medical student asked.

"That bookshop we talked about." Enjolras replied.

Combeferre smiled. "I just came from there, and I mentioned Eponine's case to the owner M. Ravigard. He said that he'd like to meet her as soon as possible, and it's likely that he'll give her that job."

"So much the better. Could you come with us?" Enjolras asked. 

Combeferre nodded. "Let me put my books upstairs first." 

"You're a real friend, Francois." Enjolras said. 

Combeferre chuckled. "I know you wouldn't want to walk with her alone anyway," he said in an undertone to Enjolras as he went up the stairs.  
The three young people took a fiacre back to the Rue de Filles du Calvaire. Eponine almost started when she realized where her new workplace was going to be. _"I'll be near Monsieur Marius!" _she realized as the fiacre turned the corner.

M. Ravigard, a spindly gentleman of forty, was waiting for them. "So is this the young lady you mentioned?" he asked Combeferre almost as soon as the latter came into sight.

Combeferre nodded. "Yes. Mademoiselle Thenardier, I'd like to introduce Monsieur Ravigard. Monsieur Ravigard, I'd like you to meet Mademoiselle Eponine Thenardier---" 

"Thenardier?" M. Ravigard asked suspiciously. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

Eponine bit her lip as she tried to conceal her anxiety. "Does it really matter, Monsieur?" she asked.

M. Ravigard shook his head. "No. Not at all, Mademoiselle. I was just wondering where I heard it before."

The rest of the interview went well, and by the end of the hour, Eponine was assured of her situation. "Eight o'clock tomorrow, Mademoiselle," M. Ravigard said to her before she left.

Enjolras and Combeferre exchanged relieved looks as they exited the shop. "We're lucky that M. Ravigard is understanding," Combeferre said. It was already dark, and the streetlamps were being lit.

Enjolras glanced at his friend, then at Eponine. "Most men would not take on a woman so easily. Perhaps if only situations for employment would be fairer..." 

He was interrupted by Eponine's hand on his arm. "Oh look there! Marius' cousin---Monsieur Theodule!" the girl called to someone across the street.

Enjolras and Combeferre looked to see Theodule hurrying towards them. "Mademoiselle Eponine! What brings you here at this hour?" the officer said. "And you're with these two Republicans?"

"Well, I...we... had an errand to run." Eponine said quickly. 

Combeferre extended a hand to Theodule. "I'm Combeferre. You are?"

"Seargent Theodule of the King's army." Theodule replied stiffly.

"And I'm Enjolras." the law student said cordially by way of introduction.

Eponine smiled. "So how was your day, Monsieur Theodule?"

"Well enough." Theodule said. "Wouldn't you know! My cousin is seeing that lovely lady I had my eye on so long ago."

"The lovely lady...Cosette?" Eponine asked incredulously.

"Is that her name? She is not as charming as you are, Mademoiselle. She seems rather...insipid," Theodule said, turning up his nose. 

Eponine laughed softly. "And where do you go to now?" 

"To dinner." Theodule said. "I'd ask you to join me, that is if your companions would not mind---" 

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Eponine, what of your brothers?"

"We can go by for them..." Eponine said, trailing off as the awkwardness of the situation began to sink in. She managed an innocent smile. "Perhaps you gentlemen should settle it among yourselves..."

"Then we shall go to dinner with Monsieur Theodule. There is barely anything back home tonight, anyway." Combeferre said. "That is, if you would not mind coming with us. We need to fetch three children we cannot leave alone."

"Children?" Theodule sputtered. 

Eponine turned red. "My brothers."

"Oh." Theodule said. "Well then, let's not waste time. I'd hate to delay a good evening."

Enjolras shook his head as he hailed a fiacre. "I have this feeling that I'm going to have to assume responsibility for something later..." he said to Combeferre.

"That's why there are two of us," Combeferre said. "Antoine, you should get out more. Perhaps this evening should be more dignified than that time at Musain when Bahorel and Bousset both got out of hand..."

Enjolras cringed. "It took much convincing for the proprietress to let us back in. That's one good thing that Grantaire did; brought back our back room."

"You could give credit where it is due," Combeferre said.

"Perhaps." Enjolras said as a fiacre drew up. He stepped aside to let Eponine enter first. Theodule slipped in beside her, leaving Combeferre to take the seat across. Enjolras took the seat nearest the door.

"Monsieur, Twelve Rue de Richelieu," he said.


	15. Noxious Realities

**Noxious Realities**

In the two weeks following this encounter, the residents of Twelve Rue del Richelieu fell into a sort of everyday pattern. 

Early in the morning, Eponine would ready herself for work, while Enjolras and Combeferre prepared to leave for the Sorbonne. Gavroche, by day, was master of the apartment (though Combeferre had discreetly asked Aurelia de Vaux to supervise from afar). At the end of the day, one of two things would happen: if there was a meeting of any sort with the Friends of the ABC or other political leaders, Enjolras and Combeferre would leave Eponine in charge for the evening while they went to participate in whatever discussion there was to be. On nights like these, the young Thenardiers retired early to bed. 

On the other hand, if nothing was scheduled, the students returned to the flat and stayed up late in the night to catch up on schoolwork, or in Enjolras' case, reading. On such evenings, Eponine would sometimes share the light of the candle and read various texts to herself or her brothers.

One busy evening, Enjolras was at his wits' end trying to look for his cravat. "To think I'm running late for the convention, and that Bahorel mentioned that I'd have to be early," he muttered as he rifled through his drawers. 

"How should a consitution be drafted? Perhaps some provisions should be made, then presented to the people. To have a single group taking charge would be almost oligarchic...but we're out of time." he mused. The need for order was pressing, but Enjolras had to remind himself repeatedly not to resort to the extreme measures that had occured to him time and again. After all, he had a healthy fear of the guillotine.

It was at this moment that the front door of the flat swung open.

"Enjolras?" Feuilly's voice said.

Enjolras found a cravat at the back of the drawer and hastily tied it on as he went out into the front room. "_Salut,_ Feuilly. Weren't you supposed to go directly to the Musain?" he asked his friend confusedly.

Feuilly gestured to the cravat. "It's a little messy. Anyhow, I got to talk to the postmaster. I have a letter here from your parents." 

"As if the day couldn't get any better." Enjolras said, taking the envelope from Feuilly. "Francois, Maurice, and Jehan are all at their wits' end with the coursework."

Feuilly shrugged. "It's better than Joly's hypochondria, which just complicates matters."

"True. Sometimes I envy you, Gilles. You're a free man." Enjolras laughed as he opened the envelope. He paled as he read through the contents of the letter. 

"Antoine?" Feuilly asked concernedly.

Enjolras shook his head. "I was expecting this would happen. My parents will have nothing more to do with me. While Nice has been actively participating in the Republic's affairs for some time now, it is only recently that my parents have pinpointed my exact role in the events."

Feuilly sat down. "So now what?" 

"I'm lucky that in a few months, my exams will push through. Then I will not have to pay tuition or books. I think that the more urgent problem will be rent or meals," Enjolras said wryly.

Just then, the door swung open again. Gavroche entered, helping in his youngest brother Jacques by the collar. Jacques' shirt was smeared with something wet. "Monsieurs, I think he's sick!" Gavroche said, pointing to his brother.

"My stomach hurts," Jacques moaned.

Feuilly felt Jacques' forehead. "He's burning up."

Enjolras picked up the child, taking care not to get vomit all over his clothes. "Where is Eponine?" he wondered aloud as he put Jacques on a bed. He looked at his watch anxiously.

Feuilly bit his lip. "I'll watch them. You go on ahead to the meeting."

"No. You're needed too." Enjolras said quickly. It was already half-past six, and Eponine should have been back a quarter of an hour ago.

_"Perhaps she's trying to see Marius again, or that idiot Theodule. If we have to find her, where will we begin?"_   
Eponine heard the tocsin as she stood on the street corner.

"Where is he?" she asked through gritted teeth. "He said at a quarter past six..."

Eponine struggled to swallow the bile in her throat. "He's almost as bad as Marius...keeping me waiting out here for nothing,"

The darkness was falling fast. Eponine did not feel fear, like most Parisians did; she was used to it after all. The dying gold of the twilight made her heart sink. "I'm really on my own, always." she whispered. Marius had never noticed, Theodule was absent, and everyone else would let her pass by. Enjolras did not seem to like her very much, but he obviously preferred her company to that of her friend in the army.

"But he's there, like Theodule. Suppose he passes this way, will I talk to him?" Eponine whispered.

She felt a tug on her belt. Eponine wheeled around to see a scraggly gamine running off with her purse. "Come back here!" she screamed at the younger girl.

The pickpocket tripped over a loose stone and fell sprawling. As she got to her feet, a lamp from a passing carriage cast light on her emaciated face.

Eponine froze. _"Mon Dieu..._ Azelma!" Before she could run to her sister though, the pickpocket had vanished.

Eponine felt for where her purse had been and bit back a curse. "It is just what would happen to a Thenardier! Steal and be stolen from!" she laughed harshly. Tears threatened to roll down her cheeks as she thought of all the long hours that she'd put in working, only to have her pay snatched away so swiftly. 

However, a smile tugged at her cheeks as she remembered what she'd been standing at the corner for. "Perhaps I could ask Monsieur Theodule for some help..." she thought wistfully, running back to where she'd been earlier.

To her dismay, the corner was still deserted. "Should I stay or should I go home?" she asked herself. She clapped a hand over her mouth at the word 'home'.

_"You really assume too much!"_ she reminded herself. However, she was beginning to realize that perhaps home would be wherever she and her brothers would make their living. "Maybe with Marius in the picture..."

"What picture?" Theodule asked from behind her.

Eponine smiled as she turned to face him. "I thought you'd never come." 

"I was delayed speaking to my regiment." Theodule said, bowing by way of apology. "Care to walk with me a way?" 

Eponine hesitated, wondering if she should find some way to tell either Gavroche or her student friends that she wasn't returning to the Rue de Richelieu for some hours. She steeled herself to link her arm through Theodule's, and follow the officer towards a street full of cafes, a street she didn't quite recognize.


	16. What Only A Lady Can Give

**What Only a Lady Can Give**

_fifteen minutes later_

"Muschietta, I swear we won't get Joly in trouble again. Please?" Feuilly begged the young lady who now stood before him.

Muschietta Laurain threw a skeptical look at Feuilly and Enjolras. "How long will all of you be out?" she asked. She was a young woman whose best charms were her deep set eyes and her perfectly arranged dark curls. She rested a hand on her hip as she waited for the answer to her query.

"I have no idea. But we'll make sure Joly and Bossuet get home safely." Enjolras said quickly, not bothering to conceal his desperation. He and Feuilly had no luck in trying to persuade neighbors to go in to watch the Thenardier boys, and now had to resort to more extreme measures and company. Luckily, the flat that Joly shared with Muschietta and Bossuet was not too far away.

Muschietta sighed. "Alright. I'm only doing this because you're Patrice's friends," she said as she followed the men into the fiacre. "How did you two end up taking in three gamins?"

"Actually, they're the younger brothers of a friend." Feuilly replied.

"Which one?" Muschietta asked.

"A lady friend. But she's er...not around at the moment, and this is an emergency," Feuilly explained. Considering the warning look that Enjolras was giving him, it was better to be circumspect about the situation with Eponine. 

Muschietta grinned. "Your lady friend or Monsieur Enjolras' lady friend?"

Enjolras fought to keep a straight face. In the few times he'd ever met Muschietta, he'd been on the receiving end of her teasing and insinuations about all the women whose company he'd made it a point to ignore.

Muschietta giggled. "What is her name, Monsieur Enjolras?"

"She is not my lady friend." Enjolras replied curtly. They continued in silence back to the Rue de Richelieu. As soon as they reached Number Twelve, Muschietta quickly got out of the carriage, followed by the students. Gavroche was waiting for them at the steps.

"Ah who is the pretty lady?" the boy asked.

"My name is Muschietta. I'll take care of you till your sister comes back," Muschietta said kindly. "I heard your brother is sick?" 

Gavroche nodded as he showed Muschietta upstairs. "And where will you go?" he asked Enjolras and Feuilly.

"A meeting." Enjolras replied. "You can't come, Gavroche. You're too young."

Gavroche's face fell. "Well then, I shall be the sentry and watch the fort," he said, raising his chin.

"Good man." Enjolras replied before getting back in the fiacre with Feuilly.

"He'll become a gentleman one day," Feuilly remarked as they watched Gavroche return to the house.

"More than that," Enjolras said. "We'd better hurry."

Feuilly nodded. "And what of Eponine?"

Enjolras shook his head. "I have nothing to say to that girl. I'll let Combeferre deal with her. I suspect she's with Marius' cousin named Theodule."

Feuilly laughed wryly. "Are you jealous or merely being protective?" 

"The latter. I don't trust that man." Enjolras said. "Marius is a good fellow; we all knew that from his first day with us. I cannot say the same for his cousin. He does not know when to be sober. He's a soldier who does nothing but swagger and cause a ruckus."

"Sounds a lot like either Bahorel or Courfeyrac." Feuilly observed.

"You know the difference." Enjolras pointed out. He looked out over the street and at the people milling about. "Enough of that talk though. What I worry about more is how all these laws are going to be made. Everyone will want a say in something. The problem is who to listen to."

Feuilly nodded sympathetically. "Shopowners are now giving bread more easily, since they won't have to pay taxes...yet."

"That is one thorny issue." Enjolras muttered. "Perhaps taxes should be imposed; a sort of communal fund if you will...but no, at this point, not everyone can pay."

"You need to get out more to find the answer." Feuilly said.

Enjolras nodded. "Perhaps." A sort of strange plan was forming in his mind. Considering the specter of poverty that was looming on the horizon, it was rather timely.  
_in a cafe_

Eponine picked at her food as she listened to Theodule's story of one of his exploits in southern France. She enjoyed listening to him, especially when he began telling stories. His jovial manner only added to the seeming warmth of character that intrigued the young girl.

"That is a funny story. Whatever did you do to the peasant?" she asked him at last.

"Threw him off his horse." Theodule grinned.

Eponine's eyes widened. "Whatever for?" 

"He was in the way of the regiment. You're a woman, Eponine. You cannot possibly understand such things." Theodule said.

Eponine took a bite of bread and looked around the dingy cafe. Originally, she and Theodule had planned to go to the Champs Elysee, but once she told him that she had just lost her purse, he'd changed direction.

So far, Theodule had been treating her like a lady, except for this night. _"He keeps me waiting, and then does this...only Papa is worse. Parnasse was just a bit better!"_ she thought. She began to wonder how Marius would treat a girl. _"Better than this, no doubt."_

Suddenly, footsteps sounded from seemingly above. "Good Lord, what is going on there?" Theodule asked.

Eponine looked up. "Nothing, apparently..."

"I'd better investigate..." Theodule said, getting up. Eponine tried to grab his arm, but he shook her off. He stumbled slightly due to the three glasses of wine he'd already downed.

"Oh goodness!" Eponine muttered. She walked out of the cafe, not particularly eager to be involved in a brawl. She'd seen too many of those in Gorbeau and when she worked as a streetwalker not long ago. 

She leaned against a streetlamp and pulled her coat more tightly around her. _"Merde. _That's all I'm good for, isn't it?" she asked herself.

She felt in her pocket and found a watch she'd borrowed from Courfeyrac. "It's already eleven and a half?" she exclaimed. She looked around the dark street and bit her lip before starting off for the Rue de Richelieu.


	17. Orestes, Pylades, and Electra

**Orestes, Pylades, and Electra **

It was almost midnight when Muschietta heard a knock on the door of the flat. The pretty grisette had already sent Gavroche, Neville, and Jacques to bed amid protests and begging (protests on the part of the older two, and begging on the part of the invalid). Now, she'd contented herself with reading till she was interrupted in the middle of a lengthy passage.

She forced an amiable smile on her face as she opened the door. Instead of seeing Enjolras and Combeferre, she saw a young girl dressed in an open frock coat over a clean blue dress. Her auburn hair was tangled and half-obscured her wan face. It was Eponine.

"Hello. You must be Gavroche's sister." Muschietta greeted the newcomer more warmly than she'd expected to.

"Who are you?" Eponine asked, stepping into the flat.

"Muschietta. I'm Joly's lady friend. And your name is?"

"Eponine." 

Muschietta raised an eyebrow. "That's the name of a character from a book."

"I know," Eponine replied wryly. "What are you here for anyway?"

"I was asked if I could watch over your brothers while the men are at another meeting." Muschietta replied, sitting down again. "The little one, Jacques, has come down with something."

Eponine walked past Muschietta into the bedroom where her brothers slept. Gavroche and Neville were both sound asleep in one bed while Jacques was tossing and turning in the other. As Eponine sat down beside her sick brother, she could see the sweat that covered the boy's brow, and soaked through his light brown hair.

"I haven't the money to pay for a doctor," Eponine whispered grimly as she wiped Jacques' pallid face with a handkerchief.

Muschietta sat down beside Eponine. "How old are you anyhow, Eponine?" 

"I'm turning seventeen soon." Eponine sighed. "You are?"

"Twenty-three," Muschietta said with a touch of pity in her voice. "You're rather young to be working," 

"It's better than begging, I think. That is if your wages don't get stolen." Eponine replied bitterly. She struggled not to cry as she held her brother's limp hand. "I'd hoped to be able to pay back everyone, but now I can't. Not with my pay gone to a thief, and Jacques so sick!"

Muschietta looked at Eponine sympathetically. "I'm sure you'll manage. Gavroche told me you were smart, so I think you'll get somewhere, and you'll be able to get better dresses, a place of your own maybe. Or you could get married,"

Eponine laughed bitterly. "Who'd want a working girl like me?"

Muschietta sighed. "Someone will. Now I'd love to stay, but it's late. Can you manage on your own?"

"I think they'll be back soon," Eponine said. "Am I glad you were here!"

Muschietta nodded as she got up. "Good night, Eponine. And I hope your luck turns up soon. It seems as if Bossuet is wearing off on you." 

Eponine cracked a smile at Muschietta's little joke. Once the older girl was gone from the flat, Eponine began looking around for a comb. She unlaced her boots and kicked them under a bed. After this, she searched for a blanket to sleep on.

She'd just finished setting up her makeshift bed when the front door to the flat opened. "Monsieur Enjolras? Monsieur Combeferre?" she asked quietly.

"E-Enjolras, I never knew that Eponine..." a slurred voice replied.

"Quiet now, Grantaire. Or I don't care what Combeferre says, you're not staying here! This is the last time I'll let you stay here when you get locked out of your tenement," Enjolras' voice retorted.

Eponine went into the front room and gaped as Enjolras unceremoniously dumped a semiconscious Grantaire onto a couch. Grantaire's clothes were disheveled and he smelled of brandy while Enjolras had a black eye. "What happened to you?" the girl asked, hurrying to find a wet cloth to treat Enjolras' bruise.

"Some fool, and I don't mean Grantaire, started a fight in the Musain." Enjolras replied with disgust. He looked Eponine over from head to toe, as if trying to figure out what to say next. "Combeferre is just helping a certain officer get back to the barracks. How he wandered up there anyway, I would like to know."

Eponine paled as it dawned on her what Enjolras referred to. "Theodule walked into your meeting?" she whispered.

"It would have been better if he'd just walked, but he had to pick a fight with Grantaire, Bahorel and some of the others there." Enjolras added icily. He reluctantly accepted the wet cloth that Eponine handed to him.

"I didn't know that Jacques was sick, or that Theodule would be late...it's a rather hapless piece of luck I've been swallowing!" Eponine said.

Enjolras gave her a withering look. "There is no such thing as luck, Eponine. Only choices. You are old enough to know what you have to do. You insist that we leave you to choose for yourself, but you act like a wayward child who does things on a whim."

Eponine looked down, stung by Enjolras' words. "I chose to get shot, but not to leave Montfermeil! I didn't choose to be in love with Marius, or to be robbed today...Monsieur Enjolras, you know that there are so many things I don't want to keep happenin' to me." She swallowed hard as she stood up and went back into the room then closed the door behind her rather forcefully.

Enjolras sat alone for a while, listening to Grantaire snoring and talking in his sleep while watching the flame from the candle flicker and dance in front of him. The bruise around his eye was starting to smart, and he had no choice but to keep the cloth on it.

"It's people like them who sometimes make fighting for justice seem so fruitless. But I go on because I know there's something more to them," he said quietly to himself. He tried to write down some of what had been discussed in the meeting before Theodule had interrupted it, but found after a while that he could not concentrate due to his fatigue.

Enjolras opened the door to the room quietly and saw Eponine seated by Jacques' bedside. Her face was streaked with tears and her shoulders shook as she tried to make her sobs less audible.

After a moment, Eponine looked up at him. "It's so hard to keep trying...I want my Maman back...I don't deserve to live like this," she murmured. "No friends, no one who cares much for me...wouldn't you believe it? Not even Theodule cares. He left me standing under the lights while I was robbed. I think you care more than he does,"

Enjolras looked at her, being caught off-guard by her words. "What makes you think that?"

"You haven't turned me out yet."

"It's egalite. Everyone deserves a roof over his or her head."

Eponine studied him intently, as if guessing his intentions (or lack thereof) for the very first time. "You're a very kind boy,"

"We all must do the best we can." Enjolras replied, getting a blanket and going back into the next room. Eponine watched him go and rubbed her eyes. It was going to be a long night.


	18. Abased Personified

**Abased Personified**

"One hundred twenty three francs and nineteen sous. That should be enough to last for a while,"

Combeferre shook his head at Enjolras' statement. "Between now and the exams at the end of the year?"

"My parents stopped sending me money just before the revolution," Enjolras replied. "Remember how I almost spent half of it on ammunition?" 

"I had to talk some sense into you then, and remind you that there was a chance you'd live through it all so there was some wisdom in saving a bit of money," Combeferre said. The two friends were eating breakfast in the flat, trying to make conversation amid Grantaire's snoring on the sofa nearby and Eponine's off-key singing in the next room.

Enjolras picked at his eggs, bread, and coffee thoughtfully. "I haven't the time to work, but I can sell some of my things."

"Like what?"

"An extra coat, my hat, some old books." 

"You're staring the life of the abased in the face." 

"I have always, but from a different point of view," 

"If it helps, I'll pay the rent for this month, and I'll help Eponine out with Jacques," Combeferre said reassuringly. "Poor girl; to lose her first honest salary so easily." 

"If she hadn't been standing at that corner waiting for the buffoon, she wouldn't have been robbed," Enjolras said grimly. The black eye he had was starting to smart. "That bruise which Theodule gave me won't fade for a week."

"You're not the one who had to bring him drunk back to the barracks." Combeferre frowned. "It turns out that his commanding officer was one of the chiefs at the other barricades down past Picpus. When he heard that Theodule was declaring the former king benevolent, he was almost apoleptic."

Enjolras chuckled. "I ended up dragging Grantaire back here. I had a good mind to simply leave him at the door of his flat."

Combeferre shook his head. "The last time you and Jehan tried that, he almost choked on his own vomit. Joly was livid when he found out."

"Precisely why I did what I had to do," Enjolras said. He looked with disdain at Grantaire's boots dirtying the sofa. "I won't envy him in a few minutes. Serves him right."

At this, Grantaire stirred on the sofa. "Where am I?" he groaned. 

"My flat," Combeferre said. "Care to have some breakfast?"

"I feel awful," Grantaire said, sitting up slowly. He was quite a sight in his rumpled clothes and tangled hair. "Who is that singing in the next room?" 

Enjolras covered his ears as the melody reached an ear-splitting note. "It's just Eponine."

Grantaire's eyes widened as he took in this information. "I didn't know she was your mistress!"

"She's no one's mistress," Enjolras replied curtly. "She just lives here." 

"Grantaire, just have something to eat. It will do you good." Combeferre said.

The drunkard sat in a chair beside that of the philosopher. "That's a pretty good bruise you have there, Enjolras. It looks better on you than it does on Bahorel."

"I had to get between him and Theodule." Enjolras scowled.

Just then, the door opened and Eponine stepped out, fully dressed. Her hair was wet from being newly washed, and she had on a clean dress._"Bonjour Monsieurs"_ she greeted. She took a seat across from Enjolras. "How long have you all been up?"

"Not very long," Grantaire said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Eponine looked at the loaf of brown bread on the table. _"Larton brutal_. White bread is so much nicer,"

"It is not so bad if you put butter or something on it," Enjolras said.

Eponine dipped her piece into her coffee. "I remember smelling bread baking. I wanted to take some back to the bridge where I lived under. It's so cold there...it's a good thing we aren't there. Or what would happen to Jacques and Neville. But it's better than sleeping under Paris," 

"Under Paris?" Combeferre repeated quizzically. 

"The sewers!" Eponine exclaimed. "Oh it is so dark, and it doesn't smell very nice, even with a rag on your nose. But it's better than being caught by the cognes and ending up in the can...inside..."

"A prison?" Enjolras asked, shuddering at the casual tone Eponine used in speaking of her privation.

"Yes. Les Madelonnetes," Eponine replied. "I was there for watchin' a robbery. Papa said I'd have brown silk boots when he was through, but when I woke in the morning, I had no shoes,"

Enjolras tried to keep his hands from shaking as he sipped his coffee. _"What kind of life turns normal people into those like her?"_ he wondered. He did not have to look down to see that Eponine now wore shoes; teamster's boots were better than nothing. Her freshly washed face and hair were those of a working girl, but her manner of eating quickly and her harsh voice were those of a gamine. She had not lost the habit either of idly toying with things as she ate.

_"Sometimes she's like a gamine who got into a nice dress"_ Enjolras thought. Even with a wash and quite a few square meals, Eponine was still rather homely.

"What are you all going to do today?" Combeferre asked.

"Work," Eponine said with her mouth full.

"I have errands to run," Enjolras replied. "Combeferre, could you---"

"Don't worry. I'll take charge of the boys," Combeferre said , giving Eponine and Enjolras knowing looks. "Grantaire?"

"I have a meeting of a sort," Grantaire grinned.

Enjolras did not bother to ask. He watched Eponine drink her coffee and he cleared his throat. "Eponine, about last night---"

"I'm sorry..." Eponine said, looking at him sadly.

"No, not about that. Just watch out for Theodule. How you could ever respect him, to the degree that you do, is beyond me,"

"Why you do care a little bit,"

"Not in that way," Enjolras replied, not looking at her. He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable at the insinuations that were surely beginning to enter Grantaire's mind, judging by the drunkard's grin nearby.

Eponine shook her head as she got up and put on her coat. "_Au revoir mes amis._ I'm late," she said as she went out the door. 

Combeferre laughed. "That girl is perceptive."


	19. Four Sides to a Story

**Four Sides To a Story**

Several more weeks passed. August dissolved into September.

During this time, Eponine hardly spoke to Enjolras, which was a convenient arrangement for them both. Indeed, no one had much time to talk; the students had their studies and their part in helping draft a constitution and see to the various administrative affairs of the fledgling republic while Eponine had her hands full with her work and her brothers. Jacques' convalescence took only a few days, thus assuaging some of his sister's worries. 

During this time, Theodule continued to meet Eponine, but he was always punctual. More than once, Eponine also ran into Cosette and Jean Valjean. Sometimes they'd meet on the street; another time, Cosette had stopped by the shop. Eponine preferred being cordial instead of being cold to them. She was not really much of an ingrate. 

During this time, Eponine turned seventeen. She did not mention this fact to anyone.

M. Ravigard usually closed his shop for one hour after noon in order to clean the place up. Usually Eponine would use this time to eat, or to perhaps catch up on sleep. 

One afternoon in the first week of September, she decided to make a certain call. "Monsieur Marius will not mind, I hope," she said as she slipped out of the bookshop and ran towards Number Six. The porter recognized her and admitted her immediately. 

Eponine ran around through the garden, hoping to catch a glimpse of Marius through the window. To her delight, she found him walking in the garden. He stood up straighter than ever since his injury, and a healthy glow was starting to return to his cheeks. 

"Monsieur Marius!" she whispered.

He turned and nodded cordially. "Mademoiselle Eponine,"

Eponine laughed. "You called me Mademoiselle!"

"You look it," Marius said. "What have you come here for?" 

Eponine blushed as she looked at her red dress; even if it was stained with ink in some places, she thought it was lovely. "To see you. It's been some time since we talked...I have had much to do with work,"

"So I've heard from my friends," Marius said. "They come by here sometimes. I hear you have a job now?"

"I work at a printers," Eponine said. "It's awfully hard, but M. Ravigard pays me well. I say it keeps on my feet longer than begging, and maybe I can have a new dress. What do you think, Monsieur Marius? What will your cousin like to see me in?"

Marius went pale. "My cousin?" 

"Monsieur Theodule!" Eponine giggled. "He is a handsome man; not as handsome as you are, but he does talk to me often. I know that Monsieur Enjolras and all your friends don't like him much, but I like him when I see him."

"How do you know what Enjolras thinks?" Marius asked quizzically.

"He tells me to be careful. I do wish it was you sometimes, but what can I do? You're always in the garden. When will you be able to go out and visit the rest of us?" Eponine asked, looking into his face. 

"Soon," Marius said, running his hands through his hair. "Eponine, you might want to be careful. I know his regiment moves often...what will you do when they are transferred soon?"

The glow on Eponine's face only brightened. "Think of him, I hope. Write to him...you know, it's because I can write that I have my job?"

"A very good thing too," Marius smiled.

"Oh, you're smiling at me!" Eponine exclaimed. "Monsieur Marius, you have just saved me from a certain danger...never mind, I shall talk to Theodule and ask what he thinks. I shall make sure to tell you. Adieu for now." she said, turning to leave. She stopped to give him a friendly wave before she disappeared out of sight altogether.

Marius shook his head. "Nothing's changed," he muttered.

Eponine was in high spirits as she ran out of the gate. "He smiled at me!" she said. She picked up a wandering kitten on the street, ignoring its mews of protest. "And he cares a bit...why else is everything working?" she laughed. She gave the kitten in her pocket a bit of the bread she'd saved from breakfast that morning. The kitten only pushed it away.

"Kittens don't like bread, Ponine," a familiar voice said.

Eponine looked up and blinked. "Parnasse?" she whispered. Under the daylight, he looked less menacing than he did when Eponine was ill and delirious.

"How goes it with you?" she asked in a more cordial tone. "You gave me such a fright so long ago!" 

"Very well," Montparnasse replied with all the nonchalance he had after a successful escape. The revolution had been rather good for Montparnasse's fortunes, judging by his new clothes and healthy look.

Of course, Eponine could not know this beyond the clothes. She had no idea of the encounter that Montparnasse had with Enjolras and Prouvaire. "Have you any news of my Papa or Azelma?"

"Your Papa is well," Montparnasse replied. "I saw him a few days ago. He wanted me to ask you to look through the Rue de Richelieu. You live there now, I hear?"

"Yes, but I don't know if they have much. I live with students," Eponine replied, keeping her voice level. "It's little better than a biscuit,"

"That bad?" Montparnasse asked.

Eponine nodded. "I work now. You think if they were richer, they'd just give me money," 

"Perhaps," Montparnasse said diffidently. "You're looking rather good yourself, Eponine,"

"You always went for grisettes, not gamines,"

"That puts me in the same level as your other friends,"

Eponine shrugged. Montparnasse had always dreamed of being a dandy. "So where do you go now? And you haven't told me of my sister,"

"I have business to settle." Montparnasse said, checking his knife. "As for your sister, I think she's still living with your father. Not in that tenement though."

Eponine nodded. "I must go. I have work to do,"

"Look out, Eponine," the assassin said gravely.

"You too," the working girl said, turning to leave. Despite everything he'd put her through, for as long as the day shone, she would always consider him as a friend.

"How I liked you once!" she murmured as she went back into the bookshop. M. Ravigard was just beginning to open the store.

"Where have you been girl?" he chided gently. "Seeing your young man?"

"What?" Eponine asked, surprised at the old man's words.

M. Ravigard winked at her. "You could do something to salvage those books. You can sew the covers to the pages,"

Eponine reluctantly sat to her work in a corner. Of all the jobs in the store, sewing the books was the worst, in her opinion. She bit her lip as she tried to keep her stitches even.

The door opened and M. Ravigard stood up. "How may I help you, Seargent?" 

_"Theodule!"_ Eponine froze. She tried to make herself inconspicuous.

Theodule's blue eyed gaze found her however. "I'd prefer if that young lady helped me," he said to M. Ravigard.

Eponine stood up and fought to keep from turning red. "How may I help you, Monsieur?" she asked. 

"Could you show me where to find some Plato?" Theodule asked in a clipped tone. Eponine eagerly hurried over, but when she moved to take his arm, he stepped back.

Rather perturbed, she guided him to the display of books on philosophy. "Which would you like? I sew these books sometimes," she said proudly.

Theodule picked up one book and inspected it. "Fine enough. I'll take this,"

"How goes your day?" Eponine asked him quickly.

"Nothing much happened since yesterday," Theodule said. He gave some money to M. Ravigard and then put a coin in Eponine's hand. "For your trouble,"

Eponine bit her lip. "Will we meet again?"

Theodule paused. "Tomorrow. Will that be fine?"

Eponine managed a smile. "Yes. I'll be there...the usual corner,"

Theodule nodded briefly before putting on his hat and leaving. M. Ravigard opened his mouth to ask a question, but by then Eponine had returned to her work.


	20. Viewpoint to Delusion

**Viewpoint to Delusion: I **

"He'll write me, I'm sure of it," 

Enjolras shook his head despairingly as he watched Eponine pacing the sitting room at the Gillenormands' residence. It was noon; Marius had just finished breakfast, Enjolras had stopped by to visit on his way to school, and it was Eponine's time off from work. 

"That's the third time in the quarter of an hour you've said that," Enjolras said to Eponine.

"Fourth actually, Enjolras," Marius piped up from his seat at the far end of the room. He flexed his shoulder experimentally. "According to my aunt, my cousin should be at Vernon in a few days," 

"Then he can post a letter. If he doesn't write by the end of the week, what shall I do? I shan't speak to him again," Eponine said. "It's been three days since I saw him..." 

"Eponine, you have _other_ things to do besides wait for his letters. Think of your brothers," Enjolras said with an irritated edge to his voice.

Eponine crossed her arms. "I do think of them, Monsieur Enjolras. But it would be so much nicer if Theodule would write...it's like the sun after the rain, you see? It's so hard thinking of him..."

"Then don't fall in love then!" Enjolras muttered to himself. Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back.

Eponine stopped pacing. She took a deep breath and averted her gaze from the men. "I'd better go. I'm needed at the shop," she said.

"Let me walk you out," Marius offered, getting up.

"No thank you," Eponine said, heading out the door.

Marius shook his head. "A very noble effort, Enjolras," he said sarcastically to his friend. 

Enjolras' eyes narrowed. "You know perfectly well that your cousin does not have good intentions. Eponine is still a child; she doesn't deserve to be treated in that way."

Marius raised his eyebrows. "And you told her that her feelings are pointless? You know that she values your opinion highly," 

Enjolras looked at Marius. "Not as much as she'd value yours?"

Marius cringed. "Courfeyrac once told me something to that effect. I know I owe a good deal to Eponine; she did give me Cosette's address...she did save me at the barricade. But I can't love her...not in the way she wants to, at least. I only warned Eponine about my cousin because I need to thank her, I think," 

"And I understand that's all because you love someone else," Enjolras said. "And that Eponine to you, is at most, only a friend,"

Marius nodded. "And you? Why are you so concerned about Eponine?"

"She needs a sort of protector," Enjolras replied. "The street is really no place for a girl like her, especially one with three younger brothers to support. Honestly, there are some times when I feel like wringing her neck, then something reminds me that she's just the same as all the abased we fought for, and continue to work for,"

Marius gaped, surprised at Enjolras' sudden confiding in him. "I never knew you'd think that way..."

"I only tell you this because you're her friend," Enjolras said firmly.

"You're more of a friend to her than I could ever be," Marius pointed out. "You have it in you,"  
When Enjolras finally neared the Sorbonne, he saw a group of his friends in the street, haranguing each other. As he drew nearer, he recognized Courfeyrac, Prouvaire, and Combeferre, all of three of them trying to cheer up a dejected Joly.

"Now what's happened?" Enjolras asked Combeferre in an undertone.

Joly looked up at the newcomer. "Haven't you heard? Muschietta moved...moved away. She never said anything. How could I know?" he asked softly. 

"Who'd know where she is?" Jehan asked.

"None of you daft ones, that's for sure," another voice chimed in. The five students looked to see a woman standing in the street, carrying a huge wicker basket full of clothes.

"Mademoiselle De Vaux," Combeferre greeted.

Aurelia glared at them, her eyes rougher than the calluses on her hands. "Nothing better to do than skirtchasing now? There you go, Monsieur Joly, crying over her again. I hear you from my window, you know. And you Monsieur Enjolras, keeping a girl..."

"Mademoiselle!" Enjolras said rebukingly.

Aurelia shook her head. "Just saying what it is, Monsieurs," she said with a mock curtsy before she swept off down the street.

Courfeyrac made a face. "What is it with that woman? Every time we see her, she always has something terrible to say. I'd hate to add her in my collection," 

"Actually, this is the first time she's been that way to Enjolras. Normally she reserves the worst for Feuilly," Joly observed.

"If I didn't know any better..." Prouvaire added, trailing off.

Enjolras looked at his watch. "We'd better go in, or we'll be late, _mes amis_," 

Combeferre kept pace with him as they walked into the Sorbonne. "How's Marius?" the older student asked.

"He's well. Eponine was also visiting, so I cannot say that we had a good discussion. I've seen enough delusion for today," Enjolras replied.

Combeferre sighed. "About Marius being in love with Mademoiselle Fauchelevent?"

"No, not about that," Enjolras replied. "Forget I mentioned it,"


	21. Falling Down Hard

**Falling Down Hard**

_"I miss you, but the pleasant company here is enough to lift my spirits. We soldiers must have some eyes to gaze at..." ___

_"...there are many lovely ladies here who give me smiles...I went walking with one today; she is so beautiful" ___

_"...perhaps we shall not see each other again soon, Eponine..." ___

_"But I will always be yours. Sincerely, Theodule" _

Over and over these lines burned themsleves into Eponine's eyes, even when they were shut. She crumpled the letter in her left hand and pocketed it, ignoring the pain that was flaring up in her palm from her sudden action.

She looked at her borrowed watch and bit her lip as she headed out of the bookshop and in the direction of Number Six Rue de Filles du Calvaire. Night was falling fast over Paris, and so Eponine quickened her steps. She didn't hear Basque admitting her, or the catcall from a passer-by on the street as she entered the yard. 

She almost blindly wandered to where she knew Marius would be at this time of the day: in the sitting room.

The young lawyer glimpsed her even before she could speak his name. "What have you come here for, Eponine?" he asked, apparently noticing her harried appearance.

"You were right, Monsieur Marius. Your cousin...how could I have ever listened to him?" Eponine said breathlessly.

"Why, what has happened?" 

"He wrote to me...but he's walking with other ladies. He's lying! He doesn't miss me!"

Marius nodded, obviously bewildered. "Why don't you sit down, Eponine? Have some tea, or something to eat?" he asked the hysterical girl. 

Eponine shook her head. "I came here to tell you that he's a terrible man. I used to see him spy after Cosette! And she looked at him...that was some time before you came into the garden at the Rue Plumet for the first time,"

"What would it matter?" Marius asked. "Eponine, I was about to tell you of something...Cosette was here just this morning,"

"And so? Isn't she always?"

Marius turned red. "I asked for her hand in marriage. And her father, and my grandfather agreed on it too. We're going to be married by Christmas,"

Eponine felt as if the breath in her body had all been sucked out. "So soon!" she managed to say.

"You're the first one to know," Marius said.

Eponine nodded. "My congratulations, Monsieur.Marius. I hope you'll be happy," she said quietly. At least, that was what she could remember saying before finding herself outside again, all alone.

"All that I do...all that I tried to do, only for him," she sang to herself as she began walking down the street, with her hands in her coat pockets. She didn't even feel her legs picking up the pace till she was running. She crossed the street, unheeding of the carriage that nearly sideswiped her, and the resulting yells and curses of the disgruntled driver and his passengers.

It only grew quiet when she reached the river. The streetlamps shone, or in some cases sputtered. Eponine walked over the bridge, and down towards the river bank.

"He's lost to me forever..." she whispered, hugging her knees to her chest. She struggled to hide the tears that were coursing freely down her face. For a long time, she sat on the cold ground, listening to the noises of the people passing on the bridge, of the chatter of men and women, but most of all, of the river rushing nearby.

Eponine stood up and took a single step. No one tried to stop her, or even guess her intent. She walked quickly towards the edge of the bank, where the water lapped at the toes of her worn boots.

"I'm sorry, Gavroche," she whispered before letting herself fall into the dark swirling water. 

Oddly, it was quiet down in the cold dark wet. Eponine opened her eyes and saw nothing but the alarming dark surrounding her. She opened her mouth for a moment to scream, but no air came to her. 

She fought to get to the surface again, even if just to take one last breath of air. _"No! I don't want to go in the dark...anything but the dark..."_ she thought as she tried to kick upwards.

However, her heavy boots and coat weighed her down. Before Eponine lost consciousness, she felt someone grab her by her collar and pull her up, back towards the dismal night.


	22. Light Facing Misery

**Light Facing Misery**

_"All talk and little action...but if it gets bread into people's homes, I think I can live with it," _

Enjolras tried to curl and uncurl his fingers, wishing that the cramp in his right hand would go away. Right after his classes, which had ended early for the day, he found himself caught up in yet another discussion on laws, amendments, and even privileges given to various legislators, nobles, and other figureheads of the day. Later, there had been a long debate about the feasibility of giving the people a daily bread ration. Enjolras himself had a few reservations about the idea; there were simply not enough bakeries in Paris to support the city alone. The same could have been said for the other towns and villages elsewhere in France.

_"To think at home, back in Nice, we used to just throw bread away," _he mused grimly. Once upon a time, he had all the money he could have asked for, and all the selfishness that tended to come with such wealth.

Tonight however, Enjolras found that he had just a few sous in his pocket, enough for a meal. He'd left what little else he had back in his flat.

_"It's a miracle that Feuilly manages as he is, without parents to support him. Or Eponine for that matter..."_ he thought as he passed along the bridge. The streetlamps were being lit, and so he got a good view of the river splashing mercilessly on its banks. Tonight, the riverbank was deserted; the usual vagrants had found livelihood elsewhere, apparently. All except for one who was walking to the water's edge.

Enjolras stopped, wondering whether he'd just imagined the waif by the river. He blinked, and saw the unfortunate now standing at the very edge of the bank.

"Don't!" he meant to shout before the figure fell into the water. Enjolras sprinted down the stairs by the bridge and to the riverbank. He dropped his coat and his books on the ground before diving into the river.

The water was frigid and the current was strong. Enjolras gritted his teeth and swam towards the struggling girl. He could see her long auburn hair swirling in the water as she tried to reach the surface. Enjolras tried to grab her hand, but he only wound up with her coat collar. With an effort, he pulled her head above the surface and towed her limp form towards the riverbank.

Enjolras shivered with cold as he laid the girl on her side. "Eponine..." he muttered as he got a look at her face. Questions whirled in his mind, one of which was _"Why?"_

Eponine gasped for breath and her eyes fluttered open. She coughed up some water before looking up to meet Enjolras' icy gaze.

"What are you doing here?' she asked raspily.

"Stopping you from doing something cowardly and foolish," Enjolras replied as he handed his coat to her.

Eponine draped the dry coat over her shoulders. "He doesn't love me," she murmured brokenly. 

"That is no reason to jump into the Seine," Enjolras pointed out.

Eponine brushed her soaking wet hair out of her face. "I tried...I did everything for him. Tried to be decent...tried to be a lady," she said incoherently. "But he won't see me. I'm just Eponine to him, that girl who just begs off all his friends...don't have the money that his lady does, for sure," 

The student shook his head pitifully. "To hinge your life, your reason for living, on one person is foolish. You, mademoiselle, have to understand that life is worth living, despite what one person may think of you,"

The working girl sighed. 'Easy for you to say. You never care about such things. You never went unloved, unnoticed, or lived feeling so alone," 

Enjolras picked up his books and stood up. 'I know it hurts. Believe me."

"I'm so tired of being alone," Eponine whimpered.

"You have your brothers." Enjolras said. "You don't know how lucky you are to have them," 

Eponine smiled ruefully. "Don't you have anyone to talk to besides me? Why do you bother?"

He stared at her, trying to find an answer that would suit both of them. "Because I consider you a friend," he said slowly.

She met his gaze., looking once again stunned and bewildered. "You don't---" 

"It's all I can give you, Eponine," Enjolras said, turning to leave. He stopped after a few paces and looked at her again keenly, wondering what would lie ahead for her, for both of them. "Are you coming?"

Eponine hesitated, but she stood up at last. She slowly reached for his arm, and then allowed him to lead her towards the well-lighted boulevard.


	23. A Night at the Opera

**A Night at the Opera: I**

Three mornings later, Bossuet found himself with nothing better to do than to roam about Paris. Ever since discontinuing his studies, he busied himself with either pestering Muschietta, or simply idling in cafes. Today however, with Joly away trying to win Muschietta back, and with all his usual haunts grown boring, Bossuet decided to follow Bahorel's lead and simply loaf about.

It was on one of his strolls that he came upon a familiar face skulking about in the morning shadows. "Combeferre!" he called to his friend.

The medical student gestured for him to 'hurry over silently'. "Quiet now. I'm following someone," he said in an undertone.

Bossuet looked around. "Who? Well, there's only that grisette nearby, readying to cross the street," he said, pointing out a petite girl some paces away. "I didn't know you were courting someone,"

"I'm not courting her," Combeferre explained. "It's just Eponine," 

Bossuet stared at Combeferre. "Whatever for?" 

"Enjolras and I are making sure she doesn't do anything to harm herself," Combeferre said tersely.

"Why? Does it have anything to do with Marius' engagement to his mademoiselle?" Bossuet asked.

Combeferre nodded with a sad look on his face. "That poor girl; no one can get through to her to think of anything else. It took some effort to even get her out of bed two days ago. Listen Bossuet, could you go by M. Ravigard's bookshop at about noon? Eponine works there; you might be able to get her out of that bad humor. That is, if Feuilly and Bahorel don't succeed in that venture first,"

Bossuet smiled. "I have a better idea. I spoke with Grantaire and Jehan; they stopped by the opera, and they found that _The Barber of Seville_ is being staged tonight. Jehan might be able to get us a box,"

"A box?" Combeferre asked. "There's just nine of us..."

"If Joly is successful today, Muschietta will join us. That makes ten. Or maybe nine all the same, if you can't get Enjolras to come," Bossuet said.

Combeferre nodded. "No, I'll hide Enjolras' papers and books. He can use the time away from his desk. If it's fine with you all, can the Thenardiers come with us?"

"Eponine and her brothers?"

"Who else?"

Bossuet nodded. "I get the feeling that you do not want her to be alone?" 

"That's a circumspect way of putting it," Combeferre said.

"Fourteen tickets to the opera tonight. This will be grand," Bossuet said, rubbing his hands. "Six-thirty in the evening, outside the opera,"

"We'll see you there, Bossuet," Combeferre said, breaking into a smile before looking towards where Eponine had been standing. "Wait, she's crossed the street..."

Bossuet laughed as he watched his friend run off. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think..." he said aloud before falling into a silent musing.


	24. A Night at the Opera : II

**A Night at the Opera: II**

"The opera? Are you playing a joke on me again, monsieurs?" Eponine asked crossly, looking up from stitching yet another book together.

"Prouvaire already bought the tickets," Feuilly said. "Your brothers are joining us. We just talked to Gavroche on our way here, and he's excited to go,"

"He's friends with the actors," Eponine said with a smile as she pushed the needle into the book cover. She yelped when the point unexpectedly pricked her thumb, and she quickly stuck her finger in her mouth.

"I think Muschietta is coming with us. I spoke to Joly not so long ago, and he was in a very good mood," Bossuet said.

Eponine examined her wound and dried her thumb on a handkerchief. "I haven't anything nice to wear...but I think I shall just have to find something. I'll see you then?"

"Six-thirty outside the opera," Feuilly said, tipping his hat to her as he and Bossuet left the store, still conversing with each other.

Eponine sighed. "It's been a long time since I went to the opera," she said to M. Ravigard, who'd been listening in quietly.

"When I was your age, Mademoiselle, I lived for nothing else. I used to act," M. Ravigard said. "Perhaps you should try it," 

Eponine shook her head. "It's awfully nice of them to get me tickets. Don't have a sou for that kind of thing now. I've been thinkin' a bit, and putting aside some. Maybe next week, I'll be able to find a room of my own. I have enough, so it turns out. Then I'll be respectable, then Monsieurs Enjolras and Combeferre will have a better space to read in, then my brothers will have some space to run in. It will be so much better than Gorbeau house, you'll see!" 

M. Ravigard watched Eponine continue her sewing, all the while humming snatches of tunes that she'd heard from her student friends. "It will take more than a night at the opera to put this girl to right," he muttered, going off to see to another customer.  
_Six in the evening_

"Enjolras, can't you sometimes learn to enjoy the arts?" Combeferre asked his friend exasperatedly.

"Just for tonight only. I haven't the inclination to go to the opera as often as you do," Enjolras said as he tied his cravat. "What are we going to do about Eponine, Gavroche, and the two boys?"

"We're coming too!" Neville piped up. The seven-year old was dressed in his best shirt and pants, and sported a newly-cleaned pair of shoes. Jacques was with him, looking a little less neat owing to the food stains on his sleeves.

"It should be fun. Perhaps my friend Navet will be watching too," Gavroche said, playing with the cuffs of his coat.

Just then, the door to the flat banged open, and Eponine rushed in. "Oh. Good evening, Monsieurs," she said shyly as she took off her coat. She turned towards her brothers. "And my aren't you three handsome tonight? You look even better than the actors on the posters!"

Jacques turned red, while Neville and Gavroche gave Eponine indignant looks. Eponine hurried over to the carpetbag where she kept her clothes. "I won't take long," she said to Enjolras and Combeferre before she went into the next room to change out of her work clothes. 

"Vanity," Enjolras remarked. "A notable vice of women,"

"One which they tend to employ when you're around," Combeferre pointed out with a sly wink. "You should have seen all the girls tittering when we were going back here."

Enjolras ignored his friend's jibe and simply concentrated on making himself presentable. 'Well, it will be good to get away from talk of politics for a short while," he said to himself. He noted with some apprehension that his shoes were beginning to go to pieces; it was going to take some money to have them fixed.

_"A few more months, and I'll be able to work as a lawyer, and do so much more," _he reminded himself. 

The door opened and Eponine emerged, wearing a red dress she'd borrowed from Muschietta. "Will this do?" she asked coyly.

Enjolras averted his eyes. "We have to go," he said.  
"Now you boys had better behave yourselves if I'm going to let you sit away from me," Eponine said to her brothers as they filed into the theater.

"We will of course, Ponine," Gavroche said. "I'm not much of a pup anymore,"

Eponine sighed. "Jehan, can I ask you to take care of them?"

Prouvaire nodded. "You three get to sit front row,"

Eponine turned to follow Combeferre, Bossuet, Muschietta and Joly into the other box that Prouvaire had reserved. Much to her dismay, these four sat in the seats towards the back of the box.

"Why won't you sit up front?" Eponine asked Muschietta.

"The better to talk unseen here," Muschietta explained, glancing from Eponine to Joly.

Eponine sighed and took the last vacant seat in front, right between Enjolras and Grantaire. Grantaire smelled as if he had a drink before meeting up with them at the opera. Enjolras was his usual impassive self.

"Do you go to the opera often, Eponine?" Grantaire asked.

"Non. Parnasse wouldn't let me," Eponine replied absent-mindedly. "Why, did you?" 

"Now and then," Grantaire replied with a smile. "How did you all manage to get Enjolras to come along?" 

"Hid his books," Combeferre said in an undertone that his friends couldn't quite hear.

Enjolras turned towards Eponine and Grantaire. "Before, I barely had time for anything," he said.

"But now the revolution's won, so you should sit back and watch the sunrise," Grantaire argued.

"You look better when you smile," Eponine added more bemusedly.

"I think there are people looking in this direction...perhaps they recognize us?" Bossuet remarked, gesturing to the crowd.

"It's impossible for any of us to walk in the street without being noticed," Combeferre mused.

"Especially with Enjolras---" Grantaire added.

Eponine giggled, but grew silent as she looked around the crowd. "He's here," she said quietly.

'Who?" Combeferre asked.

"Theodule," Eponine said, gesturing to a box occupied by several army officers, all talking to several pretty women.

"Absent from his regiment," Enjolras said darkly.

"For his sake, he'd better not wander here," Grantaire said.

"Perhaps I should go and talk to him?" Eponine asked wistfully.

"What's the use?" Enjolras replied.

"You never know!" Eponine sulked.

"I think Enjolras is only a cynic where romance is concerned," Bossuet snickered before the curtain went up on stage.


	25. A Night at the Opera : III

**A Night at the Opera: III**

Eponine had been to the opera before, but had only stood unseen in the wings in order to watch.

_"The view from up here is much better, I think,"_ she mused as she leaned out to get a better look at the scene onstage. She caught a glimpse of Neville picking on Jacques in the other box, and of Gavroche and Feuilly trying to avert disaster on this end.

Closer by though, Eponine could hear Grantaire muttering the lines of the play in Greek, and Joly and Muschietta chatting behind her in low voices. Combeferre and Bossuet were having a sort of debate in the back.

She thought for a moment that Enjolras was watching the play intently, but Eponine knew the far-off look he had on his face. _"What does he think of anyway?"_ she wondered. 

_"Stop it, Ponine! He won't want you staring at him!" _she thought. Before she could collect another coherent thought, she heard the sound of applause. She also saw her friends clapping; it was the intermission.

"So soon already!" Eponine remarked, turning to the others in the box.

"I thought it would never end," Muschietta said, yawning. "I hope the second act only gets better,"

Enjolras stood up. "There are some people I might have to speak to,"

"Who?" Bossuet asked.

"Some men from the Courgarde who are here," Enjolras said. "Do you want to come along?" 

Combeferre nodded to Bossuet and Joly. "May as well. Grantaire, what about you?"

Grantaire did not need to be asked; he was already out of his chair. "And you ladies?" he asked with a smile.

"Will stay here," Muschietta replied. As soon as the men were gone, she smiled at Eponine. "I saw you staring,"

"What a who?" Eponine asked. 

"At Monsieur Enjolras, who else? Can't blame you...most of the grisettes where I live think he's quite handsome," Muschietta said lightly.

Eponine turned scarlet. "He thinks me ugly, perhaps,"

Muschietta shrugged. "You don't look half bad nowadays."

Eponine looked Muschietta over enviously, remembering that this woman looked healthier, and always dressed better than she did. Most women in Paris did anyway. "Don't see why he'd bother with me. He can have any girl he wants, if he just gave it a thought,"

"As you said before...you never know," Muschietta teased.

Eponine was about to say something nasty to Muschietta when she noticed someone enter the box. "Good evening, Monsieur Theodule," she said to the newcomer.

Theodule smiled at her and reached for her hand. "You look well, Eponine. It's a pity that I wasn't able to bring my cousin along...wanted to stay with his mademoiselle," 

"Oh!" Eponine muttered. She jerked her hand away from Theodule's. "Have you anything more to tell me?" she added in an annoyed tone.

"Tell you what?"

"Your letters from Vernon. I trust you had a good time?"

"As good as a time one can have in a regiment," Theodule said, reaching for her. "I'm here for three days. Perhaps we can---" 

"Go away," Eponine said coldly, folding her arms. 

"What on earth has happened to you, Eponine?" Theodule asked, bewildered at the girl's response. It was the first time in a few years that he'd been rebuffed to his face. "Did you not have a good time when I used to meet you?"

"You'd leave me,"

"I had things to do. You're a girl, you wouldn't understand,"

"I think you'd better get out while you can. Our companions are returning," Muschietta said calmly from nearby.

"Now who's this pretty lady?" Theodule asked, leering at Muschietta.

"Don't you start!" a new voice cried. Theodule had just enough time to look up before Bahorel cuffed him. Behind Bahorel stood Feuilly and Courfeyrac, both of them with stern looks on their faces.

"Do I know you?" Theodule asked the older man in an irritated tone. 

"You should remember," Bahorel said. "Now go away,"

"Ah the student from the Musain," Theodule said. "I could knock you flat again,"

"That wasn't me," Bahorel snapped. "But I can give you two black eyes for the one you gave our friend,"

Theodule laughed and drew himself up to his full height. "Try me,"

"Trust us, you wouldn't want to," Courfeyrac chimed in.

"What is going on in here?" another voice said. Everyone turned to see Enjolras and Combeferre at the entrance to the box.

Theodule turned pale; he was capable of getting past three men, but not five. "Good evening, Monsieurs. Were you seated here?" he asked. 

"Yes. Bahorel, you might want to let go of him," Enjolras said calmly.

Bahorel reluctantly released Theodule's coat. "He was bothering the ladies," he explained.

"What is wrong with having a good chat with a friend? You should know that, Monsieur Enjolras," Theodule said.

Eponine stood up. "You said you loved me, Theodule!" she blurted out.

"I did not say such a thing," Theodule retorted.

"Come now, we're in the opera, not in some back alley," Combeferre said, stepping in between Theodule and Eponine. "Monsieur Theodule, it would be better if you leave. I understand that your box is rather far off. The intermission is ending soon,"

Theodule glared at all of them. "Good evening then," he glowered, shoving past Enjolras and Courfeyrac on his way out.

Eponine covered her face with one hand. "Oh God..." she muttered. 

"You saw everything, didn't you?" Muschietta asked Bahorel and Feuilly.

Feuilly nodded. "And heard it too," 

"Where are Patrice and Crispin?" Muschietta asked Combeferre.

"Somewhere down there," Combeferre replied, gesturing to the seats below. "They'll be back here soon,"

"We scared him off well, didn't we?" Bahorel asked his friends.

"I thought you were going to murder him. Not that we would have minded too much," Courfeyrac laughed. "Will you all be fine?"

Muschietta nodded. Courfeyrac tipped his hat to her before exiting after Feuilly and Bahorel.

Enjolras found his seat again in the front of the box. Eponine turned away from him. "You were right. Why do you always have to be right?" Eponine asked in a whisper.

"A little caution would be advisable," Enjolras said.

"What was that all about?" Combeferre asked.

"Came in here for a bit, but I didn't want to see him, not after what he said and did. Then he turned to Muschietta," Eponine explained quickly. "I guess that's the end of it then. I wanted to hit 'im. Really, I would have,"

Combeferre and Enjolras exchanged looks. "Better not tell Joly," Enjolras said. 

Muschietta winced. "He won't come after that soldier. Patrice is too good for that," she said.

As if her words had called him up, Joly turned up, along with Bossuet and Grantaire. "Did we miss something?" the young medical student asked. 

Muschietta smiled, oblivious to the despairing looks that Eponine, Enjolras, and Combeferre had on their faces.

"Nothing much, Patrice. Nothing much," she said.


	26. Independence

**Independence**

Right after the escapade at the opera, Eponine burned all her notes from Theodule. Muschietta moved right back into Joly's flat, and Bossuet moved out into Prouvaire's place.

Two more weeks passed, during which Enjolras was literally up to his ears in work for school and helping draft a constitution for the Republic. The same could be said for the rest of Les Amis. As for Eponine, she began to be more diligent in her work. Theodule's distractions were almost fatal, in her mind. As for Marius and Cosette, they could not be touched; they were too high up in the clouds to bother with the realities of the upheavals around them.

On the last Sunday of September, while Courfeyrac was 'busy loafing' in his flat, he heard a knock on the door.

"Ah Enjolras. You finally emerged out from under the pile of paper?" Courfeyrac joked when he opened the door.

Enjolras nodded. The taller man looked no worse for wear, not even after the punishment of drafting and essay writing. "Now it's time to put it all into practice," he simply said. "We're to go past the Barriere du Maine, and have a good talk with the citizens there about some provisions in the charter."

Courfeyrac grinned. "Couldn't ask Grantaire to do it? And where's Eponine?"

Enjolras glared at him. "Don't mention that incident again. I'd really rather not remember it. Combeferre had to talk me out of throttling Grantaire the next time I saw him. As for Eponine, I haven't seen her since this morning, and I would be a madman to ask her to join us." 

Courfeyrac shook his head. "Under that marble face is a feistiness to rival Bahorel's," he said as they headed out into the street.

The Barriere Du Maine was a good way off. On the way, the two young men met many acquaintances in the street, thus prolonging what should have been a half-hour's journey. Once there, Courfeyrac and Enjolras, already almost overwhelmed with the whirlwinds of passing opinions, had to talk to most of the artisans in the lodge. It was almost late afternoon when they were able to put an end to the various discussions they'd taken part in.

"That was good. Now we know in what direction we should proceed," Enjolras said triumphantly, looking at all the notes he'd managed to take.

"Wouldn't it be difficult to call everyone for a referendum?" Courfeyrac asked.

"The people came to a more dangerous situation than an election," Enjolras pointed out. "But what we have to protect is the sanctity of suffrage. No man's vote should directly influence the other."

Courfeyrac was about to make a quip when suddenly he ran smack into a taller man wearing a darned coat. "My apologies. Is this rose yours?" he asked, noticing a bloom that had fallen from the stranger's pocket.

"Yes. Do I know you?" Montparnasse asked the students.

Enjolras did a double-take. "I remember you. The prowler at the Sorbonne."

Montparnasse paled. "And were you two gentlemen looking for someone?" he asked in a level tone.

"No, we were just about to leave. How did you get out of prison?" Enjolras asked Montparnasse darkly. 

Montparnasse smiled and looked around. "You two really do not know anything much. Perhaps, Monsieur Enjolras, you should look around more at the dust at your feet," he said coolly before disappearing into the shadows.

"He could be a poet if he put his mind to it. An elegant assassin. I saw his knife," Courfeyrac noted.

Enjolras looked towards where Montparnasse had disappeared. "How does he assume we are looking for someone? Perhaps..."

He was cut off by a sound, and by the sensation of a small pair of arms clinging to his legs. "Monsieur!" a high-pitched voice greeted.

Enjolras looked down at the small child who'd grabbed him. "Jacques?"

Jacques Thenardier, formerly Magnon, smiled up at the students. "I'm watching a cart. It's getting dark...could you stay?" the child asked in a lilting, uncertain tone.

"Are you alone? What are you doing here?" Courfeyrac asked.

Jacques pointed to a sort of lumberyard some paces away. He slipped his hand over Enjolras' fingers as he led the two young men across the street. In the setting sun, they could make out the slender form of a young boy singing:

_"When the red flag is being raised, the bullets turn and run. Cock-a-doodle, the morning comes, then the barricade is up and done!"_

"How now, Gavroche, did you come upon this ditty?" Courfeyrac laughed.

Gavroche stuck out his tongue. "Sorry, not lending the folio. Some classroom you both have chosen!"

Neville ran up to them. "Have you come to help?" he asked breathlessly. The youngsters were all covered in grime, and Neville had torn his pants. 

"Help do what?" Enjolras asked.

"Move," Neville replied. "To 28."

"Gavroche, a little help please!" Eponine's voice called. Everyone turned to see the teenager dragging a crate behind her.

"Now what enterprise is this?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Getting seats," Eponine said as Gavroche lifted one side of the crate. Neville tried to push up a handcart lying upturned nearby, and succeeded only with Enjolras' help. Courfeyrac took the crate from the young Thenardiers and put it in the cart.

"Now where are you all moving?" Enjolras asked Eponine.

"Down the street from you. 28," she replied, taking his arm. "I need three more of these boxes," she added, gesturing to a pile. 

"To put things in?"

"To sit on, silly boy."

The students took a crate each, while Gavroche and Eponine found a third. "These boxes must have been in some barricade," Courfeyrac said, pointing out some bullet holes. 

"Well, the seats won't be as high as the rampart." Gavroche retorted as they filled up the cart. Eponine retrieved some carpetbags that she'd left lying around, and also put them in the cart.

"Now how about the rest of your furnishing?" Courfeyrac asked.

Eponine shrugged. "I have a little money. Saved a bit, emptied my pockets...enough for a month's rent, and two weeks of food. Isn't it grand? I bought things, and I will pay later..."

"Now that is unwise," Enjolras said disdainfully. "To be in debt is one form of a shackle." 

Eponine looked at him crossly. "Have you any other way? And no, I do not want your money, Monsieur. Your shoes are letting in the water."

Enjolras turned red slightly, remembering the sorry state of his footwear. "It is a matter of choice." 

Eponine smiled sadly. "You're handsome, you're so charming...and yet you begin to dress so badly? Give me your coat, I will mend it for you. Now wouldn't that be nice?"

Enjolras did not answer, but he helped Eponine and Courfeyrac push the handcart back to Rue Richelieu. Gavroche, Neville, and Jacques ran ahead of them, filling the street with their amiable chatter.

The young Thenardiers had been set down in a modest room on the 2nd floor of a tenement not far from the students' lodging. The apartment was very simply furnished: a stove stood in a corner beside a tiny cupboard that served as a larder. A rickety table was set up some paces away. A rough bench was placed along one long wall. Two beds were set up at right angles in the far end of the room. Some old muslin screened the windows.

But it was, in Eponine's mind, a home. "So what do you think?" she asked her brothers as soon as they'd moved in the crates.

"It's fine. It's warm!" Neville grinned.

Jacques bounced up onto one of the beds. "Can I sleep on this one?"

Gavroche headed for the larder. "Still empty! What will we do for dinner?"

"I'll get something," Eponine said, emptying the contents of each carpetbag into a box.

Courfeyrac looked at his watch. "You could dine with us..."

"At the Musain?" Enjolras asked skeptically.

"Not in the backroom." Courfeyrac said reassuringly. "But out front..."

Enjolras nodded. "That will do." 

Eponine smiled. "I'd like that. And this time, I can pay for my own dinner."

"You're dining with gentlemen...no, you won't. I'll see to it." Enjolras said. 

"Only if I can mend your coat." Eponine said sweetly. "Let me help you...be a lady for once. If Monsieur Marius won't have me, well, I can at least see him and be someone he can talk to..."

"You don't have to do this." Enjolras said diffidently. "I can take care of myself, Eponine." 

Eponine shook her head. "That's what all the men say, so my Maman said once. Why else did we run an inn?" she laughed before ushering them all out the door of her flat.


	27. The Flip Side of Cases

**The Flip Side of Cases**

_a week later, 28 Rue Richelieu_

"Eponine, you have to go to the wedding. I'd like it. Marius would as well. And my father will be happy to see you're finally well." Cosette said as she toyed with a glove. They were alone in the flat; the Thenardier boys had gone with Navet and Bossuet 'on an errand'. 

Eponine shook her head. "I can't. I'll look horrible." 

"Everyone's going." Cosette said. "All of Marius' friends are going to be there."

"They all wanted to go, and Monsieur Bahorel had to almost threaten Monsieur Enjolras to convince him to go," Eponine said wryly. "They all belong there, Cosette. I don't. I'm not rich, like most of 'em. I'm not nice like Monsieurs Feuilly and Bossuet."

Cosette laughed. "I thought by now you'd drop the 'Monsieur'. You've known them for so long."

"I need to watch my brothers."

"They can go along too. They're such sweet boys, and I'm sure they won't be trouble. Look, you can eat well at the party, and have such fun. Have you ever gone to a dance, Eponine?"

"Not since I was little."

"Well, you will go to one. Marius' grandfather won't have anything but a grand fete. You'll like to be there. You'll be thankful for it." 

Eponine smiled wryly. "I need gloves, like yours," she whispered, holding up her maimed hand.

"I have a new pair." Cosette said. "I'll give it to you. It's white. And let's go now to the dressmakers. Touissant is waiting downstairs, so we can go. I think blue would bring out your eyes..."

"Red. Make it red." Eponine grinned.

Cosette sighed. "Red then."  
Hours later, the two young girls arrived at the Rue des Filles du Calvaire, laughing and talking about inconsequential things. They were both weighed down with various packages containing hats, shawls, and other sundry items.

"Now what are we doing here?" Eponine asked Cosette. "You sent Touissant home, what for?"

"Touissant wanted to prepare dinner, and we'll be visiting Marius. Papa said he'd be here, so why not?" Cosette said. She stood on tiptoe to take a look at the window. "And I think Marius' friends are here. That's Monsieur Grantaire I hear?"

Eponine cocked her head. "He's not drunk."

The two girls hurried up to the doorway of the house. Basque admitted them with a smile. Cosette practically swept into the sitting room, and Eponine tiptoed in after.

"Cosette!" Marius said as he stood up. "Your father was just about to ask for you."

"How was your day?" Valjean asked Cosette.

"It was very fine, Papa. I went to get that new dress, and also to help Eponine out." Cosette said, nodding first to Valjean, then to Eponine. 

"How are you now, mademoiselle?" Valjean asked Eponine.

"I'm well enough, Monsieur, and caring for myself and my brothers," Eponine said with a smile. "Monsieur Marius, why don't you ever come out of your house anymore?"

"I do sometimes, but not for very long. Only when I have things to do." Marius said sheepishly. "Cosette, where---"

"Come here for a while, Eponine!" Grantaire called from the other end of the room where he was seated with Feuilly and Combeferre. Enjolras, Jehan, and Courfeyrac sat a little way off, apparently debating on one of Jehan's compositions.

Eponine walked over to them and plopped down in a cushioned chair. "My goodness, haven't I had a long walk!" she exclaimed.

"To the milliners?" Courfeyrac asked.

"How did you know?" Eponine asked.

"Because Courfeyrac sees that look on the face of each new grisette he meets?" Grantaire chuckled. "That is, after he's wined and dined with her...like I have with many other girls."

"In some other lifetime perhaps," Feuilly muttered.

"No really, I met with a beautiful girl last week. She had lovely black curls, and the tiniest waist that could be put in a dress of purple..." Grantaire began. 

"Save your breath, Grantaire," Enjolras said, shaking his head.

"There goes another rhapsody," Combeferre muttered.

"Black hair...like my sister..." Eponine said wistfully. "Where is she now, I wonder?" 

"You have a sister?" Jehan asked.

"Younger than I am, by a year," Eponine replied. "Haven't seen her in some time, not since she robbed me." She peered at him closely. "Your collar is crumpled."

Jehan fixed his shirt deftly. "Thank you." he murmured.

"I'm almost done mending your coat, Monsieur Enjolras." Eponine said cheerily. You told me yesterday that you had found some work?" 

"Tutoring the son of one of the professors" Enjolras said.

"The schoolteacher's work is one of the most noble." Combeferre mused.

"It has its own challenges, but nothing good ever came without a struggle." Enjolras said.

"Much like justice. I finished studying one of the portfolios you handed to me." Courfeyrac shifted in his seat. "The case of the convict who stole a loaf of bread, then became, after his release from the galleys, a mayor?" 

"Now I remember the name...Jean Valjean, sometime known as Monsieur Madeleine." Enjolras said.

No one, not even Cosette, had noticed how the old man seated near the door had gone very white.

"A good man. It is a pity he met a sad end." Courfeyrac said after a while.

"Five years for stealing a loaf of bread! Our judges never look at the circumstances...that man, Valjean, was only trying to feed a family. Our old ways created needs that merited punishment." Enjolras remarked.

"And therefore you and so many others built a barricade...where's the bread coming from?" Grantaire asked.

"Coming by and by." Combeferre replied.

"What does one think of fourteen extra years for escape?" Eponine asked, after having counted and done the sums on her fingers. "It's terrible." 

"An understatement. The galleys do not reform men; they break them," Jehan mused.

"Death for treason...death for the slightest things, and the galleys for small thefts, while larger ones are ignored." Enjolras said. "There is, was a slavery in our judiciary, which is why it has to be changed..."

"Which is why you chose to study law." Combeferre said.

Valjean stirred. "Cosette, we must go. It is getting late."

Cosette meant to protest, but she kept silent. "I'll see you tomorrow, Marius," she said to her betrothed.

"I love you." Marius said.

"Ah, Marius!" Cosette exclaimed.

Valjean looked over the younger people in the room. "If there were young men like you, sitting in the same courtroom where Jean Valjean had been, the case would have gone very differently..." he said before putting on his hat and walking out the door after Cosette.

"Very differently indeed..." Marius said in bewilderment.


	28. October 22, 1832

**October 22, 1832**

"No one really waits for weddings nowadays...except maybe for Joly," Courfeyrac quipped as he and his friends made their way to 6 Rue des Filles du Calvaire. All of the Friends of the ABC were there, and the four Thenardiers.

Joly put his hands into the sleeves of his coat. "I want to finish my studies before I even ask Muschietta."

"That ceremony was the longest I'd seen in sometime," Bossuet commented. "Trust Marius' grandfather to lavish every possible embellishment...but now the Baroness Pontmercy was a vision!"

"Marius is a lucky man to have her, but I can't say the same for his scars or for the priest that the bourgeois asked to conduct the ceremony." Combeferre observed.

"I fell asleep during whatever it was," Neville yawned as he tried to keep up with Gavroche and Eponine.

"Typical bourgeois pomp," Courfeyrac said, letting little Jacques ride on his shoulders.

"You talk of the bourgeois as if you weren't once one," Feuilly said wryly. "And why are you so speechless, Enjolras?" 

Enjolras adjusted the collar of his coat. "All the observations have already been made," he said. He curled his lip at the sight of the crowd outside the house. "And here we are." 

They arrived at the house just in time to join the throng of wellwishers and friends who crowded the parlor of the Gillenormand residence. Eponine hung back and let her brothers go on ahead to greet the Pontmercys.

When everyone else had finished greeting and congratulating the newlyweds, Eponine finally went up to them. "Monsieur Marius...Madame Cosette...my best wishes," she said, trying to keep a happy tone in her voice. She wondered if her voice would crack with the effort.

Marius' usually somber face lit up with a smile, while Cosette positively beamed. "Thank you, Eponine. All of this wouldn't have been possible without you," Marius said.

Eponine nodded before hurrying back to join her brothers. "What did he say to you?" Gavroche asked.

"The one thing I could settle for." Eponine whispered. _"And maybe one day, I can find my peace..."_


	29. A Question of Education

**A Question of Education**

The next three days were no different for anyone else besides the Pontmercys. However, that very same week, a sort of disturbance was set to happen among the tenants of 28 Rue Richelieu.

Sometime at around noon, Courfeyrac went out on an errand that brought him to the area of the Rue Clocheperce. When he was about to leave the street, he caught sight of a portly police inspector berating and shaking three young boys.

"What seems to be the matter, Inspector?" Courfeyrac asked the officer mildly.

Inspector Dufour turned to glare at the law student. "These three gamins were making a disturbance. Look, one of them even stole a cake of soap!"

"To turn it into a cake of bread. It's just a run!" Gavroche scowled at the inspector. The boy grinned up at Courfeyrac. "And I see my representation!" 

"Will you help us?" Neville asked Courfeyrac, his eyes widening with fear.

"Monsieur, I will take care of these boys. They won't cause trouble again; I'll stand for it," Courfeyrac said.

"I could let them go, for a certain bit for all my troubles," Dufour said, smiling knowingly.

"Wait till the payday!" Gavroche muttered, managing to get out of Dufour's grip.

"I won't pay a bribe," Courfeyrac said firmly, taking Jacques and Neville by the hand.

Dufour glared at him. "I don't want to see any of you on my watch again. Make sure of that," the inspector said, letting go of the children and then adjusting his coat.

Courfeyrac hurriedly led them away in the direction of M. Ravigard's bookshop. "Now what were you all doing out here?" he asked when Dufour was out of sight.

"Taking the air," Gavroche said. 

"Haven't anything else to do," Neville piped up, putting a comforting arm around Jacques' shoulders.

Courfeyrac sighed. "I don't know what your sister is going to say, but I doubt she'll be happy."

"She'd do the same if her fingers were nimble," Gavroche said.

As fate would have it, Eponine was seated on the stoop of the shop. Crumbs dotted her skirt, and she was rather engrossed in reading a well-worn book. 

"Mademoiselle..." Courfeyrac greeted with a smile. 

Eponine looked up from her reading and her eyes widened. "What are you all doing here?"

"He got us out of the police!" Jacques chirped.

Courfeyrac shrugged. "A police inspector claimed he caught them causing trouble, and stealing soap."

Eponine put down her book worriedly. "What am I going to do with the three of you?" she asked her brothers. 

"I'm tired of staying in the flat," Gavroche said. "Nothing much to do except play with the same things. The street is more interesting,"

Eponine shook her head. "Well, that does it. I'm not letting you run about only to end up in the prisons. You're getting an education, and I will see to that." 

"In a proper school? Ponine, whatever for?" Gavroche asked.

"Papa and Maman taught me and Azelma," Eponine said. "Papa is somewhere, Maman is dead. So now it's my turn. But since I have to get our bread, I'm going to have to leave it to the schools to deal with you by day."

Courfeyrac picked up the book that Eponine had been reading. "The _Social Contract_?"

The working girl laughed weakly. "I borrowed it."

Courfeyrac shook his head in disbelief. "Enjolras lent it to you?"

"He just pulled it off his bookshelf when I was looking for something to read. Don't know what he was thinking."

Courfeyrac nodded and handed the book back to her. "I have to go. Good day, Mademoiselle," he said gallantly before going back towards the Palais de Justice. 

Eponine sighed and looked at her brothers. "You three are staying here. And after I finish, I'm going to ask Muschietta to watch you for a bit."

"Whatever for?"

"I need to find some more work."


	30. A Rendezvous Under the Moonlight

**A Rendezvous Under the Moon**

_November 2, 1832_

Combeferre forgot all of his dignity as he scampered down the street after leaving a political meeting. Now and then, he checked his watch, as if hoping to beat some desperate hour.

"Civilization is so much work!" he muttered to himself as he turned into the Rue Richelieu. He thought back on the current state of affairs in France as discussed in the meeting. The Central Committee, a governing body hastily appointed after the revolution, was readying to disband with the advent of a Constitution, and the preparations for free elections. However, there were some members of the group who had more tenuous holds on their power. Then there was also the talk about former members of the French nobility trying to stage a counter-revolution from the outside.

However, Combeferre's musing was broken when he came upon the locked door of his tenement. "Eleven-ten. The concierge really was not joking about the consequence of staying out late," he said as he wiped his glasses grudgingly.

Suddenly, he heard a footstep from behind him.. "Monsieur Combeferre?" a raspy voice asked.

The student nearly started, but he recognized the newcomer. "Ah, Eponine. What are you doing out here so late?" he asked. A strange smell of herbs and garlic seemed to come off the girl in waves. She had a torn bag with her.

Eponine smirked. "I just came back from work."

"Work? M. Ravigard kept you late?"

"No, I'm helping cook at one of the cafes near the Sorbonne. It's to put my brothers in school." 

Combeferre stared at the girl in astonishment. "And what of your own education?" he asked.

Eponine shrugged. "It's taken care of, Monsieur. You're starting to sound as crazy as Monsieur Enjolras, what of talking about me learnin somethin..." 

Combeferre leaned against the wall of the house. "A little learning never harmed someone like you. Rather, it can only better your condition."

Eponine sighed. "What's the use of learning things that won't feed you? It's like chasing a world that will never come...or falling in love with someone who won't look at you, ever...have you ever been in love, Monsieur?" 

Combeferre nodded. "Her name is Claudine Andreas. I met her some weeks after the revolution, when she lost her hat and I found it." He smiled at the memory of his raven-haired lady friend. "She's a wonderful girl. A bit like you, actually. Intelligent, curious..."

Eponine put her hands in her pockets. "But certainly more beautiful." She stood on tiptoe as another person came into sight. "Good evening, Monsieur Enjolras," she greeted.

"What are you two doing out here?" Enjolras asked. "Has Madame locked us both out again?"

Eponine's eyes widened with mirth. "You could stay at my place for the night...or no, it's too small. We're better off finding a way for you to climb in..."

"We can't fit through the window. Remember the time we tried that, Enjolras?" Combeferre laughed.

_"Mais oui_. But I won't repeat that story here." Enjolras replied, crossing his arms.

Eponine surveyed the window nearest them. "I can get in. Look, I know it's high, but I can climb."

"Not with that hand of yours." Enjolras said.

Combeferre shrugged. "With a little help, she might manage it..." 

"Here, lift me a bit..." Eponine said, readying to spring up to grab the window sill. "Push up my foot, won't you?" 

"Eponine, did you step into something?" Enjolras asked, noticing something wet and smelly stuck to the bottom of the girl's boot. He watched Eponine ease herself up onto the sill, and in the process, he caught a quick glimpse of her garter. Enjolras swallowed hard as Eponine deftly slid the window open and slipped into the house. In less than a minute, she had the door open. 

"Thank you Eponine," Combeferre said politely as he let her go out of the house before he entered.

Eponine stopped only to reach into her satchel to bring out a book. She shoved it into Enjolras' hands. "Thank you too, Combeferre, Good evening. Say hello to your lady. How am I glad you do care too, Enjolras," she said with a smile before skipping off down the street, singing softly.

Enjolras and Combeferre exchanged mystified looks. "Something was different in that," Combeferre grinned.

"I'm not sure if I like that," Enjolras remarked as he went to the stairway. Combeferre listened to Enjolras mutter something about Eponine and "getting things all wrong" as he followed him upstairs.


	31. Favor and Admiration

**Favor and Admiration**

The chilly winds of autumn that year had brought a whole new slew of colds and other minor maladies to Parisians. No one, from the most streetwise and hardened gamin to the still discomfited bourgeoisie, was immune to the runny nose, the cough, the watery eyes, and occasional fevers that accompanied the old menace. 

Eponine stopped to sneeze as she exited the door of M. Ravigard's bookshop one evening. "I can't get sick. I don't want to get sick," she repeated to herself as she adjusted the bag she carried with her that was close to bursting with pamphlets. She'd buttoned up her coat all the way to her neck. Coarsely knitted stockings bunched around her ankles as she crossed the street.

"My brothers need warm clothes, and so do I. We will have to eat black bread and it's going to break my teeth," she muttered. In her reverie, she managed to bump into a man wearing an awkwardly stitched greatcoat and a mask over his face.

"Watch your step!" a rough voice snapped at her.

Eponine stepped back. "Papa?" 

Nicolas Thenardier, known to some as Fabantou, Jondrette, among others, leered over at his daughter. "Eponine? What are you doing here, _fee_?"

"Working," Eponine said. "I've got a job now, what with my hand twisted and all. How goes it for you, Papa? How's Azelma?"

"She's fine. But look at me, a man with not much. So much for your revolution, talking of work and all," Thenardier said scornfully.

Eponine sighed. "Why don't you come with me a while? I've got money, let's have something to eat. I'm on my way to meet some friends..."

"Friends? Montparnasse told me about the students."

"I don't live with them anymore."

Thenardier smiled cruelly. "And you laugh now? You, who stopped me outside the Rue Plumet?"

"That was my own affair," Eponine argued. "And it shouldn't trouble you. Clearly, I see you do not want to talk to me. Goodbye." 

She heard her father mutter a curse as they went their own ways. Eponine stopped and looked back at M. Thenardier's form moving farther away down the street.

"We will meet again, I know it," she whispered as she hurried along towards the Musain. 

The front room was busy when she arrived, but not one familiar face was there. Eponine looked around frantically till she caught sight of Louison.

"Madame...where have they gone?" she asked.

Louison pointed in the direction of the backroom. "They haven't arrived yet. Well, one is here. Enjolras, I think,"

"Thank you," Eponine grinned as she hurried along to the backroom. She wandered the meandering corridor, wondering how this backroom would look.

"How Theodule managed to get in drunk, I won't know," she laughed as she reached the door. "Now of all people, Enjolras. I don't know if he wants to see me, but I did what he and Jehan asked me to do..." 

When she entered, she almost could have laughed. Enjolras was alone, having fallen asleep over whatever he was reading. He seemed a little paler than usual.

"Please don't let him fall sick too..." Eponine murmured as she quietly set down the bag she carried.

She tiptoed over to him and gently shook his shoulder. "Enjolras?" she whispered. She ran her hand through his hair, marveling at how soft it was. "Wake up. The others will be coming in a while."

Enjolras stirred and opened his eyes. "What are you doing up here?" he asked, his voice a bit cracked from sleep.

"Bringing the pamphlets you asked for. I sewed them, and I hope they hold," Eponine replied proudly. "Stay here. I'll ask Louison to get you something...aachhoo!"

"Take care of yourself. Or have Joly help you out," Enjolras said as he smoothed out his clothes, which had gotten rumpled.

"He's probably ill with it too," she giggled, wiping her nose.

"Actually, he's the only one among us all who isn't. I saw him yesterday, and Bahorel was trying to talk him into believing otherwise," he said.

Just then, the door opened and Bossuet peered in. He had a bruise on his face. "Good day, _mes amis_," he greeted. "I asked Louison who was here, and she's going to bring some coffee."

"What happened to you?" Enjolras asked.

"Fell out of a fiacre."

"What?!" 

Bossuet shrugged. "I was having a talk with a lady friend..."

"Which one?" Eponine teased.

"We were laughing, the fiacre bounced, and I fell out. Claire was at her wits' end; she thought I'd been injured badly and would have to go to the hospital," Bossuet said ruefully. "Another trick of the evil genius. I'll see her tomorrow, and the day after that. I'll hate the day she goes back to Nice..."

"Nice?" Enjolras asked. "Her name is Claire?"

"Claire D'Aubain," Bossuet asked. "She's beautiful."

"Short, with golden hair, green eyes, and a habit of wearing green?" Enjolras asked warily.

Bossuet's jaw fell. "You know her? Why, I thought..."

"She's my _cousin_ on my mother's side," Enjolras said. 'We grew up together. She's the only one of all my cousins who I could tolerate for longer than two days."

"She's in Paris with her sisters. And their mother." Bossuet asked. "You should come with me to see her."

"Maybe, but I do not think my aunt would be happy to see me. Word will get back to my parents," Enjolras said.

Eponine tapped the bag she'd brought. "I saw my father. He wasn't in a very good mood."

Enjolras gave her a worried look. "What's he up to?"

"I don't concern myself with him. He doesn't help me much anyway. Haven't seen him since the barricade, but I wanted him to look for me," Eponine shrugged.

"The ironies of family," Bossuet remarked.

"I made my choice, and I will live with it. You all saw that as much," Enjolras said as the door opened and Louison entered with the coffee.

"Swallow it hard," Eponine said quietly.

_"Perhaps he's not as different from me. Family gone, only friends around. I never had a friend before, really, so he's luckier, I guess. Seems like we've got little else to go on in life at all..."_ she thought as she picked up a steaming cup of coffee and took a sip. She frowned, realizing she'd forgotten to add some sugar.


	32. One Friend After Another

**One Friend After Another**

"Enjolras, have you heard the news?" 

"Now what's happened?"

"Bahorel's outdone himself this time," Feuilly said anxiously, looking around the street just outside the Sorbonne. Classes had ended for the day, and the place was busy even with the bitter fall winds. 

"He's in jail now for 'disturbing the peace', which I take that you know what he's done," the fanmaker added. 

Enjolras crossed his arms. "This is the first time this has happened, I figure?"

"Well..." Feuilly swallowed, trailing off.

Enjolras shook his head. "Then let's not waste any time then," he said as he and Feuilly went towards the Palais de Justice.

On their way, they saw Bossuet out walking with two pretty girls. One of the ladies was taller than the other, and chatted amiably with Bossuet. The other had an older look about her, and seemed very sullen.

"_Salut_ Bossuet," Feuilly greeted. "And how do you do, mademoiselles?"

Enjolras for his part remained silent. He knew the girls; they were none other than his cousins.

The girl who'd been talking with Bossuet smiled widely. "Crispin, I didn't know you were friends too with my cousin," she said to Bossuet.

"Claire, _cherie_, I've known him since he first came to Paris years ago," Bossuet said. "Why, Enjolras, aren't you going to say hello to your cousins?" he asked, turning to his friend.

Enjolras nodded. "_Bonjour_ Claire," he said to the girl. "And you too, Sophia," he added, noticing the surly lady nearby.

Sophia D'Aubain looked back at him haughtily. "I expected you to be unpaving hell at this very minute, Antoine."

"Sophia!" Claire said reproachfully to her sister. "There are perfectly legitimate reasons for why things happened the way they did." 

"So they say," Sophia snapped.

Enjolras looked around. "Where's Joly?"

"With Muschietta," Bossuet said.

"Is he going to get around to it?" Feuilly asked in an undertone.

Bossuet nodded. "Anyway, where are you two going?"

"Getting Bahorel out of jail. Again," Feuilly said.

Bossuet smirked knowingly. "That will take some time. I'll see you both tomorrow?"

Enjolras nodded. "Have a good day, all of you."

Claire smiled at him. "Visit us sometime, Antoine. My sisters and I are with Maman at the Champ-Elysee..." 

"I'll try," Enjolras said cordially. Sophia glared at him while Claire waved at him as they walked away with Bossuet. 

Feuilly looked back and shook his head. "I think Sophia doesn't like you very much."

"Never has, never will," Enjolras said. In less than an hour, they reached the Palais de Justice. Almost as soon as they entered the old building, Bahorel exited an office, wearing a bemused smile on his face. He had a black eye, and his coat was torn.

"What on earth...what's happened, Bahorel?" Enjolras demanded.

"A scuffle, a good old time," Bahorel said. "So maybe I did too much, but there was an old woman who was being set upon by some men..."

"Alright, do what you must, but be careful!" Feuilly admonished. "Now how did you get out so quickly? It hasn't been three hours since Courfeyrac came to tell me what had happened."

Bahorel rubbed his arms. "I was dragged here and spent some time sitting. Then there was some talk about letting me go since I'd defended myself. I thought of saying something, till she came in..."

"Who's she?" Feuilly asked, obviously intrigued.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Do we want to know?"

Bahorel shrugged. "A close relation of Inspector Dufour. She'd seen what had happened, and asked for my release."

Enjolras nodded skeptically. _"He's not telling us everything."_ he decided. "At any rate, I'm glad it's all worked out somehow,"

Feuilly clapped Bahorel on the shoulder. "Did you get her name?" 

"That's for me to know," Bahorel replied as they exited the Palais de Justice. He looked at his watch. "I'd better get some dinner."

Enjolras buttoned up his coat. "_Mais oui_. Have you anywhere in mind?"

"Grantaire knows a place with good boiled chicken." Feuilly said thoughtfully. "We could stop by Corinth and ask him where that is."

"If we'll be allowed back on the premises," Enjolras said ruefully.

They continued walking, all the while discussing various things ranging from politics to what the rest of Les Amis was up to on that evening. As they entered the Rue de Chanvrerie, they caught sight of two familiar faces exiting Corinth. 

"Combeferre, Gavroche, what's gone and happened?" Feuilly asked, noticing their grave expressions.

"Happened? You mean happening. My sister needs help," Gavroche replied, putting his hands in his pockets. He had on a warm coat, but no socks.

"Now what's Eponine done?" Bahorel asked. 

"Not Eponine, but Azelma," Gavroche said. "Think she's come to live with us...poor girl, she has red shoes she can't take off."

"Anyway, she's ill, and came to Eponine's flat for some help. Eponine's not home though, so Gavroche came here," Combeferre explained. "I have to see her now, and perhaps find a more qualified person to have a look."

"Do what you must," Enjolras said. He fished in his pocket for a five-franc piece. "And use this to help out. Don't tell Eponine."

Combeferre took the coin and nodded. "I won't," he said as he followed Gavroche down the street. When Combeferre wasn't looking, Gavroche made a face at Enjolras.

"What did you do that for?" Bahorel asked.

"She's hard up. Like many of us are," Enjolras said.

"Her fortunes are improving, you know," Feuilly pointed out. "Are you sure..."

Enjolras glared at him. "I'd do the same for any one of you. She's just a friend. I mean it." 

Feuilly and Bahorel shook their heads. "Famous last words." Bahorel mouthed when Enjolras wasn't looking.


	33. Electra Tries to Return Orestes' Favor

**In Which Electra Tries to Return Orestes' Favor**

"Enjolras?" 

The sound of a voice coming from seemingly nowhere would have made most other men jump out of their skins. However, Enjolras was too used to this bizarre occurance. He only turned around and looked dispassionately at the young girl who'd been standing behind him on the street corner that late afternoon.

"Isn't it rather early for you to be out of work?" he asked her. He'd spent the past eleven days avoiding her on account of his friends' incessant teasing.

Eponine smiled at him brightly. "I was on my way there, to my second job at one of those cafes, and I saw you, and thought you might want to see me. It's not bad, it's not awful to talk to a friend. I haven't seen you in the longest time," she said softly.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Little more than a week, you mean."

She put her hands in her pockets. "Everyone's come to visit my place, just to see me and ask how Zelma is doing. Everyone but you. Even Monsieur Marius and Madame Cosette came yesterday. I know you, and all the rest wanted to help me..."

"How did you know that?" he asked incredulously. "Who told you?"

Eponine laughed. "No one. You are the only people who'd give me anything without asking for me to do something!"

Enjolras paused, wondering what to say. He had the feeling that he was treading on shaky ground. "Are you really that unused to kindness, Eponine?" he asked slowly. 

She sighed. "Perhaps like you aren't used to not having things your way. You want some bread?" she asked, offering a bit of a black loaf she had with her.

"You need it more than I do," Enjolras said, managing to smile at her. In the late afternoon light, Eponine no longer seemed as emaciated and wretched as she'd been all those months ago. Her cheeks were starting to get rosy, and her step more sure, more lively.

Eponine reached up and brushed some dust away from his shoulder. "I like it when you talk to me like that. You know I don't want you helping me too much...Combeferre tells me you have exams soon?"

"If all goes well, I will be admitted to the bar. That is, to be a lawyer. And I'll be doing different things, for more people." Enjolras explained.

Eponine nodded as if trying to take in all his words. "Oh, a thinker! Very well then, I'll leave you to that. Me, I work. I read, but have little time to let it stay." 

"It will take some more than one reading to understand all you want to know." Enjolras said. It was then that the bells began to ring from Notre Dame, signalling the evening hour.

"I'd better go. I'll see you...if you want to come by, I'll be up later, some time after dinner," Eponine said before running off into the darkness.  
Enjolras returned to his flat some hours later, after he bought himself some dinner, and managed to meet up with a few more friends from school. When he finally got home, he found Combeferre reading a huge medical textbook.

"_Salut ,mon ami_. You look as if you had some strange encounter," the older student remarked.

"Strange indeed," Enjolras said, finding a book of his own to read.

"Don't get too comfortable. I was about to head out myself to visit the Thenardiers," Combeferre said, getting up. "You may as well come. Eponine was asking for you."

"I know. I talked to her today, or rather, she talked to me." Enjolras said, setting down his law textbook. "Now I understand why Joly sometimes complained about his younger sisters."

"The trials of being an only child," Combeferre said as they went out the door.

It was a very short walk to 28 Rue Richelieu. When Enjolras and Combeferre arrived, they saw Gavroche and Neville sitting on the steps to the flat. They were pelting bread crumbs down to the floor.

"A visit in black? It's not becoming," Gavroche said when he saw the students. "Will you come up, or shall I call Ponine?"

"Come up, all of you. There's room enough here, and the street is cold," Eponine said, appearing in the doorway of the flat.

Tonight, Enjolras found Eponine's flat to be neater and more welcoming than he remembered. He realized that Eponine had bought some candles and set them up in various nooks all over the room. Books were stacked on the rickety dining table. Jacques was playing with round pebbles on the floor. In a chair sat a painfully thin young girl with raven hair. She was wrapped in a darned shawl, and she had stockings on her feet. 

"You intended to stay up?" Enjolras asked Eponine. 

"Doing a little sewing actually," Eponine explained. "Things for my sister."

"How are you doing, Azelma?" Combeferre greeted the girl who'd drawn her shawl more tightly around herself.

Azelma Thenardier coughed slightly and her wan expression twisted into a sort of half-smile. "Better. I don't feel so cold."

"Azelma, this is my friend Monsieur Enjolras," Eponine said by way of introduction, glancing from her sister to Enjolras.

"The leader at one of the barricades..." Azelma muttered. "I hear of these things, you know. Papa used to tell me." 

"Whatever happened to your father?" Enjolras asked. 

"Went off. Don't know where. And he never came back..." Azelma said in a small voice.

"She was searching for us for the longest time," Eponine said. "You know, I do not know how I'll manage...it's queer that we all ended up this way, but I see shiners of coins now more and more, and I feel less empty. Two more days of black bread, and we'll be fine."

"At any rate, we have a long day tomorrow. We must leave," Enjolras said politely. "It was good to see you."

"So handsome and gone so soon?" Azelma said in an undertone.

"Glad I have a place for all of us to sit in," Eponine grinned. "Is there anything more I can do for you?"

"You've helped quite enough. I don't want to trouble you, not when you have so much to do," Enjolras said. "Good evening to all of you."

"And to you too!" Eponine said cheerily as the students left the flat.


	34. The Wine of Friendship

**The Wine of Friendship**

It was a good thing that the summer had been kind that year, or the Christmas of the Second Republic would have been one of misery.

As matters stood, December promised to be merry. Much of the discussion in Paris and other cities revolved around what was termed as the "Citizens' Charter". Copies were being printed in bookshops and disseminated all over France.

It was for this reason that Les Amis del'ABC met on the 22nd of December. It was morning, and the Musain was empty. Most of the students had their traveling bags and trunks with them, ready to return to their hometowns just to visit for the holidays.

"I know it's almost the exams. And true, you are all leaving to see your families. But there are matters we cannot simply let slide for even a moment," Enjolras told his friends. "So we must go to the people, see where they stand, what they will take and cannot take. Let them read the charter, and let the whole come together."

Feuilly shook his head. "I'm staying in Paris. I will send word should anything of interest happen."

"I'm staying too," Enjolras said diffidently.

"Still having a row with your parents?" Bahorel asked.

"Too bad. Claire told me that Nice is nice in any season," Bossuet said with a smile.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. Ever since Joly had proposed to Musichetta, ever since Bossuet met Claire, and Bahorel had his misadventure, not a single day went by that they didn't talk about women. Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Jehan were no help at all, being caught up with their own women as well.

"I should know that. At any rate, not being able to go home is no great loss," Enjolras pointed out. "Home has become all the world in this Republic."

Courfeyrac looked at the clock. "We'd better hurry. The chaises, the coaches will all be leaving soon, and they're a good way from here."

"Till the New Year, _mes amis!_" Grantaire crowed, waving his arms.

"And to exams, to the charter, and to news," Combeferre added. "Are you set on staying here in Paris?" he asked Enjolras and Feuilly.

"Where else to go?" Feuilly shrugged. Enjolras only nodded.

After a round of goodbyes, catcalls, and joking, the students all departed from the Musain. Bossuet, Joly, and Bahorel went to their homes to collect some of their things while Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Jehan, and Grantaire all went to secure their places in the coaches bound for the south.

"So where does that leave us?" Feuilly asked Enjolras after everyone else had left.

"Holding the fort," Enjolras said. He shivered in the cold morning wind that ruffled his hair. "This is the first time I will not be returning home to see my parents. Not that I'm missing much."

Feuilly smiled wryly. "For the past years, I'd spend Christmas with either Grantaire or Bahorel, depending on who'd be in Paris. Last year, if you recall, I stayed over with Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta, and..."

"Not in public, please," Enjolras warned. "How Joly could even speak to you and Bossuet after what you did is almost incredible."

Feuilly laughed. "An experience I do not care to repeat."

All this talk and rambling had, after a while, brought them to the vicinity of the markets. Feuilly disappeared to buy some things he'd need for making fans, while Enjolras went over to one of the bakeries where people were lining up for bread. The smell of baking bread was almost too tempting, and he thought of buying a loaf for no apparent reason.

His reverie was broken by the sound of a mewling from the sidewalk.

"There, there...don't cry. I'll keep you in my coat where's it's warm," a voice said from nearby.

Enjolras turned to see what this was all about, and he would have laughed were it not for the crowd he was in. There was Eponine, crouched on the ground, trying to coax a kitten out of a small crevice in the building's side. She had a basket on her arm, and her hair was tied back with a blue ribbon.

Eponine looked up and a mortified look crossed her face. "I look like a fool, don't I?" she said.

"You be the judge of that. Personally, I have never cared much for cats," Enjolras replied. Over the past few weeks, he'd come to regard Eponine as a troublesome, but loyal comrade of sorts. It made conversation somewhat easier, despite all of Eponine's little inflections and nuances in reference to him.

_"And having all these Thenardiers not far away will make this interim convivial, or at least more interesting than usual."_ he decided.

Eponine extricated the kitten from its hiding place and held it to her cheek. The scruffy creature was of a ginger and white coloration, and had stunning eyes of green. "Zelma will like him," she said.

"What are you doing here?" Enjolras asked.

"Buying something for Christmas dinner," Eponine grinned as she put the kitten in her coat pocket. The protesting creature calmed down and looked up with wide eyes. "M. Ravigard was nice to me; gave me a little more for some good cheer as he says," Eponine added.

Just then, Bossuet came running up, totally out of breath. "I missed the chaise," he said when he saw Enjolras and Eponine.

"Can't you find a place on another?" Enjolras asked.

"It's all booked," Bossuet said, shaking his head. "At least you and Feuilly won't be having a lonely Christmas. And with Eponine here, it should be better."

"Why, don't you and Feuilly have family to go home to?" Eponine asked Enjolras.

"Feuilly is an orphan, and I don't see eye to eye with my parents," Enjolras replied.

Feuilly reappeared with some bags in hand. He also had a bottle of cheap wine. "For the celebration," he said simply.

"Tastes better around friends, I should hope," Bossuet remarked.

Eponine smiled. "This will be the best Christmas I've had in a few years. A good roof over my head, my sister and my brothers...all that's missing are my parents, but I've got the three of you, so it will be very nice. I don't have enough sous for gifts, but will it matter?"

Feuilly shook his head. "I spoke to Marius yesterday. He said that if any of us are staying in Paris, we're invited to join his family for Christmas dinner."

"His family meaning him, Madame Pontmercy, Monsieur Gillenormand the elder, Mademoiselle Gillenormand, and Monsieur Fauchelevent and that lancer?" Bossuet asked warily.

"The lancer is away, thank God!" Feuilly said. "Do not worry, Eponine."

Eponine turned red. "It does not matter, not anymore."

Bossuet nodded. "So shall we face this next week together and see what joy will find us?"

"That, we will," Enjolras said. He didn't pull away when Eponine took his arm as they went down the street.


	35. A Spectrum of Nine Years

**A Spectrum of Nine Years**

"Put down that glass, Gavroche. It's never going to work," Azelma said drolly as her brother held up a circle of glass to a candle on the mantel of the living room at Marius' house. It was Christmas Eve.

Gavroche made a face at her. "It was working this morning. Neville and I saw the colors."

"It only works with the sun's light, Gavroche. Candlelight is not the same thing," Feuilly explained. 

"Jehan once said that Nature has its own incomparable lamps," Bossuet remarked wryly as he stepped out of the way before Jacques and Neville ran by.

Enjolras and Marius stopped their discussion just as Neville managed to trip on a corner of the carpet. "I don't think this is a good room for them to run around in," Enjolras remarked as he helped Neville up.

"If only it wasn't cold, I'd let them outside," Marius said. "There are lights."

Eponine watched this entire scene, all the time self-consciously tugging on her gloves. "Won't you take them off?" Cosette asked her quietly. "Dinner will be served in a while, I hear."

Eponine shook her head. "If only my hands were white as well. Like yours."

It was at this point that the two old gentlemen Gillenormand and Valjean entered the living room. "Ah, there you are. I was wondering if I'd ever see you!" Cosette said merrily.

Marius smiled affably. "She does intend to lead us all by the nose." 

"Indeed," Valjean said quietly with a smile.

"I see you're wearing that beautiful dress you were given all those months ago," Gillenormand remarked.

Cosette grinned as she smoothed down the lace trimming on the sleeves of her light blue dress that had been an antique, then given a good turn. "It's a lovely thing."

Azelma and Eponine gazed with envy at Cosette's attire. "We used to be the ones with the nice dresses," Azelma said in an undertone, picking up the kitten she had brought with her.

"That was nine years ago," Eponine said.

"Nine years? Has it been that long?" Cosette asked.

Eponine nodded. "Montfermeil. Do you remember?"

"Of course I do. And here we all are again, but with happier faces, I should think," Cosette said. "And you still play with kittens," she added. with an amused smile.

Eponine laughed dryly. "True. Only I don't dress them up. I dress up my siblings now."

Azelma stroked her kitten under its chin. "Wonder what Papa, Montparnasse, Babet, Guelemer, Clausequeous, and Brujon are doing tonight."

"They're probably having gin," Eponine replied. "Well, Clausequeous is dead. I saw him die at the barricade."

"So that's why I haven't seen him since then," Azelma said. "Who killed him? Not the National Guard?"

Eponine bit her lip, for she knew the answer. "It's the past. Let it stay...no use looking back on the dust at your feet," she said in a whisper. It was as if in her gaze, she was reliving the terrible hours she'd spent in the redoubt, and the misery of the years before that.

However, after a time, a smile spread across her face, as if the happiness of her childhood and that of the present were beginning to meet at last. "That was a long time ago though. It feels like it," she said at last. 

"It's a different world now, Eponine," Enjolras remarked.

"How much can the world change in six months?" Gillenormand asked crossly.

"I saw it change in that time," Feuilly said. "As a child, that is."

"My life changed in the one week I was first in Paris," Bossuet added.

"A day. It only takes a day," Eponine said in a voice almost no one heard. "One day to get rid of nine years..."

"How right you might be," Valjean said gravely.

Just then, the door opened and Mlle Gillenormand entered primly. "I hear dinner is served," she said with a tone of disdain.

"Oh good!" Neville said cheerily from where he was still playing with Jacques.

"About time to let merriment banish the melancholy," Gillenormand said. "Smiles now everyone, it's Christmas. Let winter snow cover what it will and make the world look white! You youngsters are all so grave!"


	36. Conscience Pricking

**Conscience Pricking**

_Six Rue des Filles du Calvaire_

Jean Valjean could not sleep.

The old man got out of bed with the practiced step of one who has learned to move quieter than the still air. He put on his coat and headed out of his room, into the tranquil hallway.

The stillness of his surroundings held a sanctity that he was reluctant to break. _"Would that I could stay here forever!"_ he thought as he went downstairs into the darkened front room. At his age, Jean Valjean was still sharp of eye and sure of step. He did not fear anything in this house, save for the sound of opening doors.

"I've stayed here too long. Every day that I am here, I cannot rest," he said to himself. True, he wanted for nothing; he was comfortable, he had the respect of men, and most of all, he ensured that Cosette was happy.

However, he could not banish the memories of Monsigneur Myriel, of Fantine, Javert, Petit Gervais, and all the people who for a while had vanished in the mist of his bliss.

Jean Valjean slowly went back to his room to contemplate the silver candlesticks he still kept on the mantel. He sat for a while, as if turned into stone, before turning to begin packing his things.

"It's 1833 in a few days. There, I must begin again."  
_Rue Richelieu_

Enjolras made sure that all was quiet efore going back outside the tenement. He doubted that any cafe or bistro would be open so close to midnight, on Christmas, of all nights, but he preferred not to disturb anyone's sleep for the sake of a litle reading.

He shook his head as if to dispel a dark thought gathering in his mind. "A friend of Eponine had died at the barricades?" he wondered aloud. He recalled the names on the roll, the voices and faces he'd seen in the fight. "Unless...that wasn't his real name." he concluded.

Enjolras looked up at the streetlights, which threatened to flicker and go out completely. He recalled Eponine's sudden silence, and her reluctance to discuss the matter even with her sister. His mind drifted to the window, the old porter, the gunshot, and the horror that had happened after. He felt again the weight of the pistol he'd held that day, against another man's head.

"His name wouldn't be Le Cabuc, wouldn't it?" he said.

"If that was his name, I'll never know," a soft voice said from nearby. Out of the shadows, Eponine stepped forward. She was still in her best dress, but she had no hat, and her shoulders were barely covered by a shawl.

Enjolras glared at her. "Have you been following?"

Eponine looked down. "You looked rather sad. I...I was just walking around, like I do sometimes when I need to do some thinking,"

Enjolras nodded skeptically, unsure whether to believe her. "What name did you call him?" 

"Claquesous. He was no friend of mine, but one of the Patron-Minette," Eponine replied. "Don't know why he was there at the barricade anyway. I guess it was a bad week for him, since I kept him an' the others away from Rue Plumet."

"Rue Plumet?"

"Where Cosette used to live. Where Marius would visit her."

"What were they...Patron-Minette...doing there?"

"They tried to rob the place. You know people like us. We'll get what we can," 

Enjolras crossed his arms. "I'm amazed that after all this time, you still consider yourself as incapable of doing good." 

"I didn't know till the barricade that someone like you could do murder," Eponine said quietly.

"He killed, so I had to do execute him. I did not like what I did; it was awful, and his blood is on my hands," Enjolras reasoned. He knew she'd been there; he'd seen her in the throng. "You know that. You heard me, and I saw your stare."

"I could pity him a little , but I was afraid. Then, I wasn't sure anymore if I wanted to die with Marius," Eponine confessed.

"We never know our choices till we face them, All we can do is prepare for what may lie ahead,"

"Much like looking for a meal, or building a barricade?"

Enjolras felt a smile creeping on his face. Somehow, talking to Eponine made the most complicated things seem simpler. "We have a long day tomorrow," he said at last. "You'd better go home."

"Do you feel better?" Eponine asked, cocking her head.

"I need time to think. Alone," Enjolras said firmly.

Eponine shrugged. "You know where to find me," she said before walking back in the direction of her own flat. Time and again, she looked back till she got to the door of her home.

For a long time after Eponine was gone, Enjolras stood in the half-light, as if in a dream. He sighed resignedly and looked at his watch for a moment before heading off to find some refuge in slumber.


	37. Tidings We All Bring

**Tidings We All Bring**

Feuilly sometimes stopped by the postmaster's place to get the mail for his friends or to check up on any news. On the morning of the 29th of December, he left the office in a rather hassled state of mind.

_"Bother all these foreign affairs. They talk of sitting on Poland, on keeping France within the bounds, all the while shackling their own people!"_ he thought indignantly as he pocketed a whole sheaf of letters.

Feuilly's route back to the market took him right by one of the newer schoolhouses in Paris. As he rounded the corner, he heard five familiar voices chattering near the fence.

"Now behave, the three of you. Azelma will come by here after your classes, and she'll try to help you with your work. Jacques, please eat your lunch. Doesn't matter how it tastes; you're scrawny as it is. Gavroche, Neville, you know what you have to do. I swear, you need to be educated...it's respectable besides running in the street," Eponine's voice floated out over the din.

"Class is boring, Ponine. We don't talk of the things on the street, the politics, the crowds..." Gavroche piped up.

"Go inside already. I have to get back to the house, and Eponine has to go to work," Azelma said.

Feuilly peered over to see all the Thenardier children at the gate of the schoolhouse. The five youngsters were dressed warmly; the boys had boots, and were dressed in simple jackets and trousers. Azelma was in a simply trimmed pink dress with a blue shawl and slippers, while Eponine wore her usual workdress and coarse boots.

"Good morning, all of you," he greeted, coming into their line of sight. "Back to business, as usual?"

"School for us, work for Eponine, and keeping the house for Azelma," Neville remarked. "Why can't I stay at home?"

"Run along now, the teachers are waiting," Eponine said, giving her brothers a mild push towards the house. The boys entered in reluctantly.

Feuilly sighed as he watched their glum faces. "Combeferre mentioned something about reforming the education of the children. The system could surely use its improvements, and open up more doors for the young. I could never afford to go to school; I taught myself, and how I wish I knew a little more sometimes." 

Azelma nodded with a mix of sympathy and admiration on her face. "We'd teach them if we could, but well, a boy's education is not the same as a young girl's," she said. "Now what have you been up to so early in the day?"

"Getting letters," Feuilly said. "News from the borders, from our friends."

Eponine's eyes widened. "What has happened?"

"Politics, Eponine. There's a talk happening with Austria and France soon. Very important; it could ruin us all, or give us the recognition we so greatly desire. We are a republic, not a pack of renegades," Feuilly explained.

Eponine bit on her finger. "And what will you be doing about it?" 

"The Central Committee will decide on who will be handling the diplomacy for now. It is fair to assume we will see some of our hiding countrymen, so it will be more difficult to choose a representative that both sides will deem adequate to the task," Feuilly said. "It's all political, so you wouldn't understand much of it unless you were entangled in it..."

Eponine nodded slowly, trying to make sense of Feuilly's words. "I'm going back by the way of the Rue Richelieu to get to work. If you have anything to give Enjolras, I'll take care of it," she said brightly.

Feuilly smiled knowingly as he handed her a few letters. "Tell him that Bossuet and I will meet him later in the afternoon."

"Last time you brought letters..." Azelma teased Eponine as the latter stowed the notes into her bag. 

Eponine ignored her sister as they walked back in the direction of the Rue Richelieu. Azelma noticed this, and kept silent till they at last reached their home, where they would part company. 

"Don't forget, you have things to do..." Azelma added before going up into the house.

"I'm in a hurry, and I won't stay long," Eponine retorted as she drew her shawl more tightly around herself and hurried down in the direction of Number 12.

She knocked on the door of Enjolras' flat impatiently. After a few moments, the door swung open.

"Are you quite alright?" she asked Enjolras. In the morning light, he seemed tired out, with his eyes lacking their usual luster. His usually healthy face now had the disconcerting pallor of one who is about to fall ill.

"I had to work till late, that's all. What are you doing here?" Enjolras asked.

"Giving you some of the post. Lots of things..." Eponine said, handing him the letters. She touched his hand with her own twisted one. "You feel so warm today..."

"Don't concern yourself with me. I have to go to a meeting, and you have work," Enjolras said firmly. "I'll be fine, Eponine. You're worse than Joly or Combeferre when you get worried."

Eponine shook her head. "They're not here to watch you. Must you really go out today? You don't look at all well."

Enjolras pocketed the letters and reached over to find his hat. "I have to go. You'd better run along too," he said, getting his books and papers.

Eponine went ahead of him down the stairs and out into the street. She turned to face him as he left the house. "You'd be better staying to read the letters," she said.

"I'll read them in due time. Good day to you," Enjolras said before turning to walk in the direction of the Palais de Justice.

Eponine gritted her teeth. "Seems as if I know what to do with my one hour," she said as she watched him go. She figured it wasn't far to where the revolutionaries met . She could manage a short walk there.


	38. Friends In All the Right Places

**Friends In All The Right Places**

It took much effort on Enjolras' part to keep from losing his balance as he walked from one meeting in the Latin Quarter to yet another in the Cafe Musain.

"To think I promised to meet with Bossuet and Feuilly!" he said through gritted teeth as he fought to ignore the pounding pain in his head. His eyes felt hot and his hands cold as he walked towards the Cafe Musain. His feet felt heavy; it was as if he was wading through glue. In his feverish state, Enjolras barely heard the greetings of people he passed, or the sounds of carriages driving by. However, as he walked, he became painfully aware of the sounds of stones crunching behind him, and occasionally of the rustling of nearby foliage. 

_"Where is that coming from? That had better be my imagination!" _he thought as he turned around to take a look as he arrived at the door of the Musain. No one stood behind him; apart from the usual bystanders outside the cafe, there was nothing out of the ordinary about the Rue de Gres. He shivered through his coat as he stopped to catch his breath.

_"Mon Dieu! _Enjolras, if you are that ill, you should have just sent word!" Bossuet's voice said from nearby.

Enjolras looked at the concerned face of his friend. "Never mind me. Where's Feuilly?"

"I'm here," Feuilly said from behind Bossuet. "You shouldn't have gone out walking in this cold weather."

"Important matters can't wait. Have you read any of your letters today?" Enjolras asked, clearing his throat time and again to hide the raspiness of his voice.

Feuilly nodded, but his eyes were riveted on something or someone directly behind Enjolras. _"Mon ami, _you're lucky someone followed you here," he said to his sick friend.

"What? Who?" Enjolras asked, looking around. He caught a glimpse of a slender figure in a brown frock coat, standing just a few paces away.

"Enjolras, you look worse than you did this morning," Eponine said, stepping closer. "You should be in bed, resting."

"What have you followed me out here for?" Enjolras demanded. "You have no business trailing after people like that!"

Eponine laughed. "You're so stubborn. Please, let's get away from here so you can sleep!" 

"She's right.. You can't do much in the state you're in," Feuilly said.

Before Enjolras could protest, Bossuet had practically shoved him into a fiacre, then hopped in after. 

"What of you?" Bossuet asked, turning to Eponine.

"I'll go with you. It's on the way anyhow, and it looks like snow is going to fall," Eponine said, getting in beside Feuilly. They all traveled in silence for a while, quietly observing the events outside.

Suddenly, Bossuet straightened up. "I say, is that Monsieur Fauchelevent?" he asked, gesturing to an elderly gentleman walking towards an intersection.

Eponine peered out the window. "Yes, it is him. And he is carrying a valise! How odd..." 

"He's a strange one," Feuilly said. "Perhaps he is doing business..."

In a few minutes, they arrived at the Rue Richelieu. "Just our luck this had to happen while Combeferre and Joly are away!" Bossuet said ruefully.

Enjolras stepped out after him. "I'll go on up. Thank you, but you all need not stay..."

Feuilly looked up at the sky, where the snow was beginning to fall heavily. "We have no other choice," he said, ushering them all into the tenement.

Inside Enjolras' flat, Bossuet quickly made a fire while Feuilly began searching for medicines in a cabinet. Eponine in the meantime closed the windows.

"It's all sleeping draughts. Those won't help," Enjolras said, noticing one small container that Feuilly had found. He shivered as he looked out towards the windows. "Since you'll all be here for some time, you can have some of the tea and the bread," he added, glancing towards the cupboard on his way to his bedroom.

As soon as Enjolras shut the door, his friends exchanged worried looks. "This is as sick as we've ever seen him. He'd better not get worse, or we'll have to call a doctor," Bossuet said in an undertone.

Eponine wrung her hands. "What shall we do with this storm? I'm missing my job...don't know how to tell Zelma and Vroche that I might be here all evening, and there's Enjolras sick," she said, going over to start making the tea. Feuilly cut three slices of bread from a loaf in the cupboard while Bossuet inched closer to the stove for some warmth.

"Don't tell me you're getting ill too!" Feuilly joked a while later as he handed the bread out.

"Coat has holes," Bossuet remarked as Eponine began to pour the tea into cups.

"Look at my boots," Eponine said, wiggling her toes.

Feuilly rubbed at the calluses on his hands as he accepted a cup of tea. "It takes getting used to."

Eponine sipped her tea and winced for almost burning her tongue. "Excuse me," she mumbled, putting down the cup and slipping over to the bedroom.

She silently opened the door and stepped in. Quickly, she went over to where Enjolras lay tossing and turning under several blankets. "Do you need anything, _mon ami_?" she asked him in a whisper. 

Enjolras blinked as he struggled to focus on her face. "No. Why did you go after me?" he asked.

"Little do you know!" Eponine said, brushing damp hair out of his face. "If only you...well, never mind that, you're more in need of something else than this. Go to sleep, Enjolras," she said more soothingly.

Enjolras shut his eyes as Eponine put an extra blanket on him and then settled herself in a chair by his bed. She sat there as if contemplating something while Enjolras drifted off into a fitful sleep, muttering unintelligbly in his delirium. After a few minutes, she went over and slipped her hand under the covers till her fingers met with Enjolras' palm. To her surprise, he held on to her hand briefly, as if in some sort of reassurance.

It was in this way that their friends found them some time later. By this time, Eponine had also fallen asleep, exhausted from the harrowing day.

"Not much better off, I think," Feuilly said as he scooped up Eponine and put her in the only unoccupied bed in the room.

"We'd better keep watch," Bossuet said, rereading his own mail. "Combeferre will be home soon, I hear." 

So it was in this manner that they kept vigil, waiting for the sound of a fiacre.


	39. Words Too Thick to be Spoken

**Words Too Thick to be Spoken**

When Eponine opened her eyes, she was not surprised to find herself lying in a bed. "How nice of them!" she sighed as she stretched slowly. "At least nothing in me will hurt when I move," she said more quietly to herself. She had been too used to getting cramps upon waking up from a nap on some sidewalk.

She gingerly crept out into the next room only to catch sight of Bossuet and Feuilly asleep in their chairs. Eponine went to the window and pushed the shutters open slightly. The storm had died down outside, but the entire street was now covered with snow. It was already evening.

"I may as well..." Eponine murmured as she began to make another potful of tea. Without anyone to help her, it took longer than she would have liked before she managed to fill the old iron pot with water, and then heat it on the stove.

While waiting for the water to boil, she also found a clean cloth that she then soaked in some cool water. Having done this, she slipped back into the room where Enjolras was still sleeping. Gently, she wiped his face with the cloth, all the while humming snatches of an old song from her childhood.

A knock sounded from outside the flat. Eponine's first impulse was to drop all that she was holding and then stay very still. "You silly girl!" she reprimanded herself after a few moments as she got up to see who was outside.

"Combeferre!" she greeted, almost laughing with relief at the sight of the newcomer.

"_Bonjour_, Eponine," Combeferre said cordially. "It's good to see you, but what are you doing here?"

Eponine gently pulled her friend into the flat. "It's all because of Enjolras. I'm so glad you've come, since Bossuet, Feuilly, and I don't know what to do with you and Joly away. He will get better, won't he?" she said quickly.

"Do you mean to say that Enjolras is ill?" Combeferre asked.

Eponine wrung her hands. "I tried to tell him not to go out, but he wouldn't listen," she said, glancing towards where the tea was coming to a boil. "I don't know why. He was well at Christmas..."

"You never know with illness," Combeferre said as he went towards the bedroom. "Knowing him, he'll get past it soon, but just the same, I want to see him," he added, giving Eponine a reassuring look.

Eponine nodded and then slumped into a chair. It was then that Bossuet stirred and opened his eyes.

"I heard Combeferre in here," he said sleepily. "Is that more tea you're making?"

"Yes," Eponine said, straightening up. "What were you all supposed to talk about today? What was so important?"

Bossuet smiled ruefully. "One-man rule."

"What?"

"I meant voting. Elections. A Republic's best thing. Do you understand that?"

Eponine's eyes widened. "Who gets to choose the leaders? But why not everyone then?"

Bossuet picked at a thread hanging out of his clothes. "That's just the problem. Not everyone agrees on that. Whether men of property, men of no property, or even women..."

"Ladies like Madame Cosette the Baroness?" Eponine asked.

"Or you," Bossuet said. "You are in the Republic as well."

Eponine shook her head, laughing. "I don't know anything, other than what I hear from all you talking. And what I remember of fighting. Oh right, I've tried reading that book of Rosseau. Papa liked Rousseau for a time, and I think I like him as well, now that I've tried going through the pages..."

Bossuet reached over and poked Feuilly. "Go away," the fanmaker muttered, swatting away his friend.

"Feuilly, it's already dark out. Combeferre is back already," Bossuet said loudly.

Feuilly opened his eyes slowly, then sat up. "That's good to hear. How's Enjolras?"

Eponine shrugged. "Let's go in and look..."

The trio trooped over to the bedroom door just when Combeferre opened it. "He's awake, and his fever is not so high anymore," the medical student said. "I gave him a little medicine; his fever should hopefully break soon."

"Ah, but Enjolras' health is not your reason for returning to Paris so quickly," Feuilly said. "You have heard other news?" 

"Of the Austrian delegation?" Combeferre asked. "Yes, that. And the debates on the elections. Actually, I think the former is more in your area of expertise."

Feuilly colored slightly. "I read a lot."

"And you know more about Austria than half of our group put together," Combeferre pointed out. "I recommended that you be one of our Republic's representatives in the talks."

"Combeferre, you ask a lot out of me," Feuilly said.

"It's not as deadly as a barricade," Bossuet said.

"But more dangerous and more important in many ways," a fifth voice chimed in.

"Enjolras!" Combeferre exclaimed, shaking his head at the younger man who stood in the doorway.

"You're better! Oh goodness, you had me scared!" Eponine said, throwing her arms around him. "You should not get so sick again!" 

"Eponine, let go. You need not do that," Enjolras said, disentangling himself from the girl's embrace.

Eponine reluctantly stepped away. "As you say, Enjolras." 

Combeferre held up a hand. "I think we'd all better take a rest. Enjolras, you're still ill. Eponine, Feuilly, Bossuet, you all have things to take care of, and I have just come from a long journey. We can meet here, tomorrow, if you want to discuss these things."

"He's right when he's right," Bossuet remarked. "But for now, how about the tea?


	40. January 1, 1833

**January 1, 1833**

_Rue del'Homme Arme_

"Why did you return here?" Enjolras asked quizzically. "Weren't you happy staying with Marius and his family?"

Jean Valjean only smiled sadly. "I am an old man, and I have my reasons." 

Enjolras nodded, unsure what to make of the old man's reply. Ever since he heard that "Monsieur Fauchelevent" had left Rue des Filles du Calvaire, he'd been trying to guess the reason for the sudden removal.

_"Some secret he's trying to keep?"_ he wondered as he rubbed his hands for warmth. "If you need anything, you know where to find us," he said at last. 

"It will all do for now," Valjean said, turning to go back into his house.

Enjolras went back to the street corner where Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Eponine, and Gavroche were waiting. "He's an odd one!" Eponine observed.

"Who, Enjolras or the old man?" Gavroche piped up. Eponine only smiled by way of reply.

"At any rate, we have to go," Enjolras said. "No use standing around here. Courferyac, you know the address of the new meeting place?"

Courfeyrac pulled out a pocketbook. "Eight, Rue de Lamarque, formerly known as Rue Reuilly."

"They think they can simply banish the old regime by a name," Combeferre mused quietly. There had been a recent decision to change half the street names in Paris to more 'liberal' forms of nomenclature.

"True, there are more pressing matters at hand," Enjolras said.

Eponine took his hand. "And what of me and Gavroche? Can we come too?" 

"No. We have things to discuss," Enjolras replied curtly. "I would have thought you had your fill of such debate days ago."

Eponine shook her head adamantly. "Let me go with you. I can listen. I can learn a bit. You said a Republic would allow all citizens to choose, to learn---"

"We're already late. And you're wasting our time even as we speak" Enjolras said sternly, letting go of Eponine's hand.

Eponine looked at her friends and sighed. "Come, Gavroche. We have to go, as they say," she said. But Gavroche had disappeared. "Now where's he gone off to?" she asked crossly, hurrying off back to the main road.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac looked at Enjolras pointedly. "Now what has gotten into you? You aren't that harsh even to Grantaire!" Courfeyrac demanded. "You should have seen the look on her face!"

"She's being silly again," Enjolras said. "If she was sensible, she'd know to wait and stay out of the matter for now. I know we're fighting for the rights of people...women like her, but I cannot allow her to meddle in this way. Not all people think kindly of women learning of politics."

"So you give her a cup of knowledge and care, only to snatch it away at the first sign of gratitude?" Combeferre asked. "You still have a lot to learn, _mon ami_. And in your situation with Eponine, it's not even about equality anymore. You know she thinks the world of you."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Enjolras retorted. "I have no time to lavish the same attention on her in the way you do with your mistresses and grisettes!" he added, going ahead of them towards the Rue de Lamarque.  
Eponine ran, searching wildly for any sign of her brother. "Vroche, you come out here this minute!" she called as she stepped into an alley.

She slumped against a wall. "I'm such a fool," she whispered. "Even Enjolras doesn't seem to care very much. I know he says that he does things to make sure that I and other people can live well, but I'm not happy! There is a difference..."

She rubbed dirt off her gloves and straightened out her skirt. "What am I to do? Between now and dinner later with Marius and Cosette, I haven't anything to do. Azelma said she wanted to speak with Jehan about something. Neville and Jacques are off with schoolfriends..." 

A plan began to form in her mind. Eponine reached into her pocket and counted out the few sous she had on her person. "Should be enough for a shirt and a pair of trousers...or at least something..." she said. She had done this before, and perhaps this time would be easier.

With her money in hand, she went off to the Rue de Lamarque.


	41. A Flicker of Recognition

**A Flicker of Recognition**

Eight Rue de Lamarque turned out to be a rather spacious cafe known as _Bon Vivant_.

"Was this here before or after the revolution?" Eponine wondered as she made sure that her hair was still hidden by the oversized cap she'd managed to find in a pile of discarded clothing.

If Eponine had a mirror with her, she would have laughed upon seeing herself. Her baggy shirt threatened to slip off her slender shoulders, and she had to roll up the cuffs of her trousers thrice so she would not trip as she moved about.

"They won't know me. They'll see a boy, like they did at the barricades, not their little Eponine," she said to herself as she stood up straight and tried to square her shoulders. She slipped into the throng that was streaming into the cafe, and for a moment was nearly overwhelmed by the hubbub of voices and bright light all around her. Eponine took refuge in a corner near a stairway, which offered a pretty good view of the room. A sort of makeshift podium had been put up on one side of the room. All kinds of people had filled up the cafe; a few police inspectors, former National Guards, and of course the principal figures of the revolution. Enjolras and all his friends except for Marius were seated near the middle of the room, conversing with various people.

"Would you like anything, boy?" a serving girl asked Eponine.

Eponine fished in her pocket for a few sous. "Just tea," she said, trying to make her voice as low as possible. The serving girl raised an eyebrow as she went off to the kitchen.

Now, a man wearing military decorations went to the podium. "Silence, here is General Lafayette!" someone cheered.

"I didn't know that Lafayette was in the revolution's central committee!" Eponine mused to herself. 

"Quiet, boy! Or you'd better step outside," an old man snapped at her.

Eponine nodded diffidently. "But monsieur, what are they discussing today?"

"Don't say Monsieur. Say Citizen," the old man said. "And they're talking about elections. Some fools want the right to be extended to women! Yes, all men, we understand that, but women? Even Rousseau himself said that women lacked the capability to participate actively in ventures of these sort. We were right to hide our womenfolk when the barricades rose!"

"I beg to differ!" Eponine muttered, turning away from the old man. She thought for a minute of moving a bit closer to her friends, but she stopped herself. _"They won't want to see me here..."_

A sudden shout broke Eponine's reverie. "To allow all men? Not all can pay taxes and effectively contribute to this nation!" an irate voice bellowed from near the door. This speaker was a neatly-dressed student who wore an excessively tall hat. It would later come out that he was none other than the nephew of one man known as Bamatabois.

"Disenfranchising a portion of our citizenry will be putting the old estates back into place," Enjolras said calmly, getting to his feet. "If in the Old Regime, the vote of the Third Estate was frequently overpowered by those of the First and Second, the same principle will be seen if we hush the voices of those who cannot pay the required taxes. An equitable economy, but with equal representation, that is what should happen here!"

"And if you were to confine the right of suffrage to those who contribute economically, then what of working women who act in the place of their husbands, deceased or not?" brave Jean Prouvaire asked the first speaker. 

"Well...ah...but they are women!" the first student said, slamming the table. "And these women should have a man to support them."

"Come now, Bamatabois," another voice, that of an older man with a brown cap, said more kindly. "You yourself were raised by a woman."

"Last year, thousands of women were left widowed or without support, for various reasons," Combeferre said. "The cholera, work accidents, and yes, even our revolution claimed husbands, sons, fathers, and other relatives. It would be cruelty to leave these women without a means to live freely, to reap the benefits of what we fought for, and yes, to stand with the same dignity we do."

The boy named Bamatabois laughed. "What do you say, Enjolras?" 

Eponine felt her hands tighten into fists. "What is he going to say?" she whispered. In that moment, Enjolras appeared to her as solemn and terrible; what he would say would certainly seal her fate. He was beautiful and fierce as he looked at everyone in the room. For a moment, Eponine cowered, afraid he would see through her disguise.

"Combeferre is right," Enjolras said. "Perhaps we perceive our women to be feeble, but it is truly possible that we have made them so by hiding them away, or leaving them to fend for themselves in the most ignonimous ways possible; I do not mean prostitution only, but other things. Given the opportunity to advance, given the education, it is probable that women can be trusted with this duty of suffrage."

Courfeyrac grinned at him. "Any evidence on the part of the defense?" 

"You know what I mean," Enjolras replied in an undertone.

On hearing all of this, Eponine nearly fell out of her seat. She was certain they had been talking about her.

"Are you alright?" the serving girl asked her concernedly as a new buzz of debate filled the cafe.

Eponine realized that the girl was smiling widely, obviously from hearing Enjolras' discourse. "I'll be more than fine. More tea, Citizeness?"

The serving girl leaned in and put something in Eponine's left palm. "He said to give this to you," she said in a whisper before going away to the kitchen again.

Eponine shakily unfolded the note in her hand. She froze as she recognized Enjolras' handwriting. Taking a deep breath, she read the single line there over and over before letting the paper fall to the floor.

Later, the proprietress of the cafe would find the note and throw it away, not knowing the significance of the words: "I know you heard everything."


	42. Of News We'd All Like to Hear

**Of News We'd All Like to Hear**

"I walk by in his shadow...hoping he'll never see me there...but I won't run, it's all too good for that..." the melancholy song continued.

"Eponine, it's not even noon! Now what young man inspired that dirge?" Musichetta said as she entered M. Ravigard's bookshop.

Eponine broke off her singing and looked up from the book she was stitching. "Oh hello, Musichetta. What brings you here on a Saturday morning?" she asked her friend. "When you're supposed to be planning your wedding too!"

"Bossuet and I were getting gifts for Joly," Musichetta confided with a smile. "The boys have taken their exams; the results are being posted today at the schools. I just know that after today, Joly can now be called a doctor." 

Eponine nodded. "So that, besides politics, is what has been keeping them all busy, I think? I haven't seen Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre in days now and they live so close by!" 

Musichetta daintily examined the books on the shelves. She peered out the window as someone passed. "I say, isn't that one of the maids at the Pontmercys' place?" she asked.

Eponine looked out the window. "It's Nicolette. With a doctor. I wonder why..." she said. "Never mind. I've stopped following his concerns now. He's got his Madame Cosette to do that," she said with a wry smile.

Musichetta picked out a new leather-bound tome and handed it to Eponine. "Could you wrap that up, please?" she asked sweetly.

"A book of plays," Eponine said, looking at the title. "Where will you go after this?" 

"Shopping," Musichetta said. "Oh, but you could come too! You need not get a new dress or shoes; a simple trinket will do. Something nice to wear when you go to my wedding, what do you think? I know Cosette took you shopping once, so now it's my turn."

Eponine sighed. "I hope this is the last wedding for now. If all of our friends get married, I shall be ruined buying nice things."

Musichetta laughed. "I think you'll be next." She only laughed as Eponine vehemently shook her head.  
Some hours later, the two girls stopped outside a cafe to take a rest from walking around the city.

"I've got a little hair clip for my sister." Eponine said proudly. "And a brooch for me. Are you sure this is such a good idea?" 

Musichetta nodded. "Those are inexpensive, yet they look fit for a princess, or any lady. So you need not worry." 

Eponine was about to bite into the sweet roll she'd bought when she caught sight of a trio of well-dressed people walking down the street.

"Marius, they were here all along. Bonjour, Eponine, Musichetta!" Cosette said cheerfully as she walked gracefully toward them. Her skirts fluttered slightly as she sat down in a chair that Marius pulled up for her.

"To be talking in such a public place! Marius, don't be so silly..." Mlle Gillenormand pouted.

"Now, dear aunt, Cosette wanted to take a rest from walking. Where else can we go?" Marius said with a smile.

"Now what good news have you all to tell us? You look as you'll burst if you do not tell us," Musichetta said, winking. "Monsieur the Baron won a case? Or are you having a child at last?"

"After my father, you're the next to hear, and the second to guess after the doctor," Cosette laughed. "Yes, at the end of August. This is the grandest thing that will happen to me...to Marius!"

Eponine stared at the Pontmercys with disbelief. "Does Marius' grandfather know?" 

Marius shook his head. "He's out visiting friends. We were going over to surprise him with the good news."

"Marius! Eponine!" a voice called. Everyone looked up to see Feuilly walking briskly toward them. The workingman was dressed in his best suit; he'd washed the paint off his pants, and his hat was freshly brushed and his shoes restitched. "Have you heard the news?" 

"Ah, no." Marius said. "What are you dressed up for?"

Feuilly gestured to his clothing. "This? I'm assigned to the diplomatic corps to meet the Austrians in a few hours. Metternich is coming with them. At any rate, I have just been to the Sorbonne, and spoken with Jehan. So he has a year to go before his final exams, but Enjolras and Courferyac were admitted to the bar. Send too the congratulations to Doctors Combeferre and Joly." 

"Finally!" Marius exclaimed. "After all these years..."

"Can we meet them later?" Musichetta asked excitedly.

"Bossuet said everyone's going to be at the new assembly hall down near the Rue de Lamarque," Feuilly replied. "We can go there now."

Marius stood up. "I'll look for two fiacres."

"Fiacres? Can't we walk?" Feuilly joked.

"Such behavior!" Mlle Gillenormand scolded, amid the others' laughter.

Cosette sighed wearily. "I'm tired, Marius. I'd better go home and rest."

"I'll go with her. You go talk politics and let her sleep a while. Don't go gallivanting out too late, for shame!" Mlle Gillenormand said, climbing after Cosette into a fiacre.

"An hour. Just an hour. I won't stay for the convention," Marius said resolutely, following his friends.   
Almost as soon as the fiacre stopped outside the gleaming white building, Feuilly bounded out of the carriage and went up to the steps where his friends stood around conversing animatedly. 

"And the Republic greets its fine doctors and lawyers! Congratulations!" Feuilly greeted loudly, clapping Combeferre on his back.

"Not just for the republic, but for the service of humanity, especially in my practice," Combeferre remarked.

"Finally, free from our schoolbooks!" Courfeyrac grinned. "Well then, Pontmercy, here's to the other ball and chain called the workplace and the courts..."

"I don't argue cases that often, Courfeyrac," Marius said. "Congratulations to you all."

"Now the time has come for the application of knowledge and theory," Enjolras said, shaking Marius' hand.

"I'm so proud of you, Joly!" Musichetta giggled, kissing the bespectacled hypochondriac on the cheek.

Enjolras cleared his throat. "Joly, Musichetta---" he began sternly before he was interrupted by the feel of someone hugging him tightly.

"Enjolras! I'm so happy for you...a lawyer! After all those years of studying!" Eponine exclaimed.

"Eponine, stop that!" Enjolras said. "Can't you do that...no, you don't need to congratulate me in that way, especially here in public!"

"What wouldn't I give to have a girl be that warm to me," an older, but still merry voice chimed in.

Eponine let go of Enjolras while everyone else turned to see a very portly bald man standing at the bottom of the steps, dressed elegantly in a suit of the most expensive fabric. He had a few folios with him, which he carried in a smartly-cut bag.

Feuilly stood up straight. "Friends, I'd like you to meet one of my colleagues in the diplomatic corps. He's a lawyer too," he said.

"Obviously," Musichetta said, looking at the newcomer's personal effects. "Who are you, Monsieur?"

The older man walked up to them heavily and extended his hand with a smile. "You can call me Tholomyes"


	43. Out of the Fog of Obscurity

**Out of the Fog of Obscurity**

Of that merry band of four students who'd departed from Paris in 1817, leaving behind four women, only Felix Tholomyes had succeeded in remaining in the public eye. After settling back in his hometown, he'd become a rather reputed attorney, and eventually a representative for the revolutionary committees in his province.

This had given him a certain lofty regard of himself that naturally led to a wish to be greeted with adulation when he returned to Paris in 1833. However, the welcome given to him by Feuilly, Enjolras, and their friends had dampened this spark of exultation. This cordial, but 'disappointing' sort of welcome was to be repeated by Jean Prouvaire, Bahorel, Bossuet, Grantaire, almost all the other revolutionaries, and the entirety of the Austrian delegation.

Still, Tholomyes had not lost his good humor and congenial manner. By the end of the evening, he'd spoken to almost everyone in the assembly, and befriended a good many of these as well.

"It was a good thing he was around, otherwise that discussion on counter-revolutionaries would have turned into a dangerous debate," Combeferre remarked the next morning over breakfast with Enjolras, Jehan, Bahorel, Bossuet, and Grantaire. Grantaire had invited them all to join him at a cafe near the Barriere Du Maine (an irony not missed by Enjolras), and declared it was all to be at his expense.

Bahorel snorted. "All talk, no action. Mealy-mouthed words never helped settle the question."

"Still, it was not right to speak of Austria in such a manner, as aversive as the state may be to our principles," Enjolras pointed out as he stirred his coffee. "We have diplomacy to promote fraternity, not to rub salt into a point that has already been made."

The cafe door swung open with a bang, causing everyone to jump and Bossuet to spill his coffee. "Good morning evil genius!" the former law student remarked, wiping off his pants.

"Sorry we're late!" Azelma Thenardier exclaimed, plopping down into a chair next to Jehan's.

"No, you're merely timely, ladies." Grantaire grinned.

Eponine looked over the group. "Why, not everyone's arrived yet? Why?"

"Feuilly said he'd follow when he'd gotten some rest. Courfeyrac has gone 'visiting', and I think we know what that means," Jehan replied. 

"Joly and Musichetta wanted to start their day late," Bossuet said. "And need we inquire about Marius' whereabouts?" he added, much to everyone's laughter.

"You're sober today, Grantaire," Eponine said, grabbing a croissant.

"It's too early in the day for inebriation," Enjolras replied. "Actually, there's never a time for it."

"You've forgotten how to laugh, Enjolras." Grantaire said.

The door swung open again, this time in a more dignified manner. "Discussing politics so early?" Tholomyes greeted.

"No, just celebrating." Combeferre replied, showing him to a chair. 

Tholomyes sat down with a satisfied sigh and asked for some coffee. He then placed his hands on the table. "This is a joy of student life; to breakfast with friends and the occasional lady. I didn't know that Eponine had a sister!"

"I'm Azelma, and I'm only sixteen," the younger Thenardier girl said with a smile. "Is this your first time in Paris?"

"I was a student here once. I studied law here, and finished in 1817," Tholomyes said as the serving girl arrived with a meal. "Then, how different Paris was. No talk of this revolution, no talk of plans and trade, and ideas...then, any young man had the pick of the women and the promenade. I knew the women; they made me wise. Especially one, but that was the praise of a little folly."

"He reminds me of Courfeyrac," Bahorel said to Jehan in an undertone.

Enjolras looked around at the group. "Does anyone know what is to be discussed in today's meeting?"

"More counter-revolutionary issues," Bossuet said. "The Citizens Charter and its dissemination. People are reading it even there in Austria."

Eponine's eyes widened. "I helped sew some of the copies! I never knew it would go that far!"

"No one thought it would, but we all wished for it," Combeferre mused.

"The glorious illumination of the ideal fires leaping across the nations...l'avenir," Jehan grinned.

Eponine laughed. "Oh how confusing it was. More than Rousseau, really. And my father's reading on Bonaparte."

"Buonaparte," Enjolras corrected.

"Same difference," Eponine said, looking at him intently. "A name is a queer thing. The same thing to mean one...they called me a rose once, and I hear you're called many other things, but it does not make a change in what we look like, does it?"

"A lover or a rake...a mob or a republic. The opinion changes, but not the fact" Tholomyes began. "Young people, you must understand that regardless of what guise it comes in, a joy is a joy, and a liberty is a liberty. Some call drink and laughter vices, and others pleasures, but they bring happiness to people's hearts and that cannot be denied."

Eponine looked at the clock. "You'd be surprised," she sighed, sitting back to listen to the harangue.


	44. Ask At the Corner for Mlle Thenardier

**Ask at the Corner for Mademoiselle Thenardier**

Even though it was Sunday, Eponine still found herself in the area of Rue des Filles du Calvaire, more out of habit than anything else.

"I may as well see how Cosette is doing, and ask if there's anything I can do," she said as she reached the corner. To her surprise, someone was there waiting for her.

"Visiting the baron again, _fee_?" Thenardier greeted her.

Eponine laughed. "And you too, Papa? Well, we can walk together, like old days when Azelma and me were so little!"

"Actually, it's you I came out here for. I need a little help, Eponine." 

"Oh. Whatever for?"

Thenardier smiled. "Clever girl not to know. You know of all those Austrian gentlemen? Do you know their names?"

"Not all," Eponine replied.

Thenardier paused. "Get them for me, and find out where they stay. I'd like some papers, or perhaps some money at the least," he said in a low voice. "You're still friends with that young lawyer Enjolras?"

"If you do anything---" Eponine began before a blush briefly covered her face. She cleared her throat. "Well, yes. But what good can that do? He's just a lawyer, just starting out, not much in his pockets I should know that!"

Thenardier raised an eyebrow. "That makes all the difference. I just needed to speak with you. I have things to _macquiller_," he said as he turned away down the street.

"Don't!" Eponine exclaimed just when her father was out of sight. She gritted her teeth and looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "This has Patron-Minette about it again, I'm sure!" she said, changing her direction and heading down towards the cafe where she and Musichetta had been the day before. She was sure that someone in the crowd had been watching.   
It was nightfall when two other figures, one swaying under the influence of drink, stumbled up in the direction of Rue des Filles du Calvaire.

"Marius' house is just about this way," Grantaire slurred, pointing up the street. "It's not that far a walk."

"I don't see why we couldn't have taken a fiacre," Tholomyes said as he tried to keep Grantaire from collapsing insensible on the ground.

"Oh it is much better to walk on crisp evenings like this!" Grantaire said with a grin. He waved to a newcomer on the road. "Good evening, Enjolras!"

"Continuing the celebration, I see," Enjolras said disdainfully. "Tholomyes, how long has he been like this?"

"An hour. Are you sure we should bring him to the Baron's house in this state?" Tholomyes asked.

"Better to leave him there to recover than to have him raving at the assembly," Enjolras said. "Give me a minute. I'll find someone to keep him out of trouble."

The young man went ahead of them to the street corner. "She's not there," he said in an undertone as he returned to Tholomyes and Grantaire. "So much for that."

Tholomyes gritted his teeth. "He's pretty heavy."

"So much for what, Enjolras?" Grantaire asked.

Enjolras went around to lift up Grantaire by his other arm. "The next time you do something this insensible, expect none of my sympathies," he said as he and Tholomyes lugged Grantaire up the street.

"I saw you walking. Who were you looking for?" Eponine's voice cut through the darkness.

Enjolras shook his head as the young woman came into his line of sight. "Do you walk here often?" 

"I don't care for the parks," Eponine said, scuffing her boots. "I know where you're going; I'm on my way there too. I haven't been able to go by there the whole day till I knew no one was following."

Tholomyes watched the pair with some amusement. "I reckon I'll be able to find you both here if I need you?"

"Not all the time, Tholomyes," Enjolras said as they continued walking to the big house with lights in the windows.


	45. By Any Other Name

**By Any Other Name**

Long before Basque knocked on the office door, Marius already heard the tell-tale sounds of conversation and furniture being moved in the front room. "They're here already?" he wondered aloud, abandoning the folder on his desk. "Cosette is not going to be happy," he added with a mutter as he crossed the room. 

"Citizens Enjolras, Grantaire, Tholomyes, and Citizeness Thenardier are here to see you," Basque said when Marius opened the door.

Marius snorted at this Republican, yet very obsequeious form of reference. "Thank you, Basque," he said with an appreciative nod. He would have called the servant by his given name, only that it seemed as if in this household, given names were an option.

"I thought the meeting was at seven," Marius said as he entered the front room. He caught sight of Grantaire dozing in a chair. Eponine was admiring a painting in the corner, while Enjolras and Tholomyes had been conversing nearby. 

"Wind your watch, Marius. It's already half-past six," Enjolras said matter-of-factly.

Marius turned scarlet, realizing that his watch still bore the time of three in the afternoon. "And I presume that Grantaire won't be coming with us to the assembly?"

Eponine shrugged, looking at the men. "I can help him. He lives near the Musain, doesn't he?"

A door swung open, and the sound of soft footsteps became evident. "I didn't know you had company, Marius," Cosette greeted sweetly as she entered the room.

"Where have you been?" Eponine asked.

"Having a good talk with my father," Cosette replied, a hint of sadness creeping into her voice. "Are you all staying for dinner, or going with Marius to that assembly?" 

"My apologies, but we have to leave soon or we will be late," Enjolras said cordially.

Cosette frowned. "You men are all so peculiar. You talk of being too tired to do much else, and yet you run to meet about politics...are you quite well, sir?" 

Everyone looked at Tholomyes, who was silent and pale. The rotund man ran a hand over his bald head, as if deep in thought. Were the young people more observant, they would have noticed a name on his lips: Fantine.

"Tholomyes?" Marius asked the older lawyer concernedly.

Tholomyes looked at him and shook his head, as if throwing off his reverie. "Oh me?" he laughed. "Nothing is the matter, save that I think these Parisian streets bring back vapors of recollection..."

"Which means?" Enjolras asked, raising an eyebrow.

Tholomyes looked at Cosette earnestly. "You're too young, but you do remind me of a lady I used to know. I could have sworn when you entered, that you were her," he said, more to himself than to the woman.

Cosette wrung her hands. "Where is she?" 

"I do not know, Madame." Tholomyes replied ruefully.

"We had better leave. Good evening to you, Madame Pontmercy," Eponine said, noticing how her friend seemed disconcerted. She went over to the still-unconscious Grantaire. "How am I to lift him?" she asked Marius.

"Wait here." Marius said. He left the room, only to return with a glass of water, which he held over Grantaire's head.

"You'll ruin the furniture," Tholomyes warned.

"He has it coming," Enjolras said, disgust in his voice. "Inebriated at this hour, just like at the barricades."

As if perceiving their plan, Grantaire stirred and bolted upright in his chair. "Ah, I've missed it all!" he groaned, getting to his feet.

Enjolras crossed his arms. "We've wasted enough time," he said. Turning to Eponine, he added, "Are you sure you want to come?" 

"I do want to hear what's about! You talk politics in front of me in the cafes, what difference do it make with the others?" Eponine asked.

"At this point in time, a good deal. Some other evening, not now," Enjolras said. "You'll get in the way. Besides, what of your siblings?"

Cosette smiled wryly. "Dinner should be good tonight. You can stay, and we'll talk of interesting things," she said to Eponine. "Or you can bring some home to Azelma and your brothers."

Eponine bit her lip, as if in anguish. "Tomorrow? Will you let me go tomorrow? I'll ask Musichetta and Joly to stay with me, and I'll be good and proper, I promise!"

"We shall see." Enjolras said simply.

"Promise?"

"I only make promises when I am capable of keeping them, Eponine." 

Eponine nodded. "Well then, go your way. By the way, I just realized one thing..."

"Which is?" Tholomyes asked.

Eponine laughed. "You, sir, I know your name is Felix. Laurent is Grantaire's given name...but what of yours, Enjolras?"

"Does it matter?" Enjolras asked. "Good evening, Madame Pontmercy, Eponine," he said before heading out after Marius, who'd just finished saying goodbye to Cosette.

Grantaire swaggered over to Eponine. "If you want to know, we sometimes call him 'Antoine'," he said in an undertone.

Eponine smiled. "I shall remember that," she said, giving him a wave just as Nicolette entered to announce that dinner was to be served.


	46. Stitching Up the Rents

**Stitching Up the Rents**

"Why do you care so much anyway? Last year, you wouldn't have wanted to run off to see anything political," Azelma said crossly to her older sister two days later as they tried to get breakfast ready in time to get their brothers to school. Neville and Jacques were still getting dressed in a corner, while Gavroche fiddled with a tangled shoelace on his boot.

"All you've talked about for the last hour is that assembly you followed Enjolras to yesterday." Azelma added.

"Firstly, I didn't follow him. He said I could go, and he said I could sit with him too," Eponine said.

"I don't see the point," Azelma frowned. "It's all the same in Pantin."

Eponine placed a half-eaten loaf of bread on the table. "It's just interesting, really. I used to hear Marius talk about it sometimes when I'd find him with his friends, or sometimes with Cosette. And you know thatI used to stay with Enjolras and Combeferre. We'd sometimes talk or read about many things, when there was a candle to be spared," she said, fumbling for an answer that did not sound too implicating.

Azelma smiled slyly. "It's all because of Enjolras. You're quite taken with him, Ponine. Everyone knows that. I think he knows."

Eponine gave her sister an irritated look. "I heard you went off with Jehan after that breakfast at the cafe."

Azelma gave her a haughty look. "So? At least I'm not the one running all over Paris, but trying to be decent. I am what I am, and does it matter to Jehan? He talks to me, and sometimes _asks_ if I can come along. I know what you used to be, Ponine, sleeping in the gutters, going around with so many men. Do the others know?"

"You don't know why I had to do it. You're lucky both your hands are not broken. And yes, they do know. It was Enjolras and Grantaire who found me so long ago in that alley, so don't think I pretend to be anything ," Eponine hissed angrily, stung by her sister's words.

"You're quite pathetic sometimes."

"Shut up." 

Gavroche, Neville and Jacques had gone silent at the beginning of the argument. "Azelma? Ponine?" Neville asked quietly.

Gavroche put his hands in his pockets. "Are you going later, to that meeting? I sneak over there sometimes; gallery seats on the roof. I found that out on the New Year, when I got ahead of you all to the Rue de Lamarque,"

Eponine smiled at him bitterly. "Maybe. I wonder if he'll allow me today, like yesterday. I want him to know that I want to be there," she said, turning to go out the door. On her way, she grabbed a slice of bread and without really thinking about it, put it in her pocket. 

She didn't even remember walking down the street, but she soon noticed Combeferre also heading out for the day. His normally thoughtful look changed into one of surprise when he saw her.

"Out so early already, Eponine?" he asked.

Eponine nodded. "Did you go to the assembly yesterday? I don't recall seeing you,"

"I didn't stay long; I was needed elsewhere.. I had a patient, an old woman who'd fainted away.

"How is she?"

"She's fine. Who are you looking for?" 

"Enjolras. I need to speak with him. Where is he then?" 

"You know, even I have no idea. He was already out before I woke up."

Eponine gritted her teeth with frustration. "I guess I can't keep you here, so good day. I'll tell you if I see him," she said to her friend.

"And likewise with you," Combeferre said, turning to go. "Don't worry, Eponine. It's never too difficult to find Enjolras even in a throng."

"But if I do, will he want to speak to me?" Eponine had meant to ask, but Combeferre was gone.

As always, Combeferre was right about that which was logical. An hour later, when Eponine arrived at M. Ravigard's bookshop, she saw Enjolras there, talking to Marius. Both men were apparently waiting for someone, judging by their furtive gestures, and the way Marius sometimes looked around.

Eponine stood up straight and walked over to them. "Good morning, Eponine," Enjolras greeted first.

"What do you want?" Eponine asked, trying not to sound too nervous.

"Eponine, what can you tell me about when you and Cosette grew up at Montfermeil?" Marius asked. "Did you know where her mother was?"

"Why are you asking?" Eponine wondered. "Oh yes, wasn't Tholomyes acting so odd? He knows things, I'm so sure! But why can't you ask Monsieur Fauchelevent?"

"Cosette did, but he doesn't want to say anything much about it," Marius explained. "Your father...I don't know where he is."

"You wouldn't want to know." Eponine said. "But I don't remember much, only that my parents wanted Cosette's mama to keep sending them money. Her address was something like Montreuil-sur...oh I forget it" 

"Montreuil-sur-mer?" Marius asked.

"Might be. How's Cosette?"

"Not too well. I hope she's better soon."

Eponine smiled sympathetically. "I remember when Maman had Neville and Jacques. She sometimes felt awful."

Enjolras suddenly looked up. "Move away!" he said sharply, pulling Eponine and Marius off the street and into the bookshop. They landed in the doorway in a heap just as an out-of-control carriage swerved by, upsetting a road sign before crashing into the corner.

Eponine winced; she'd landed hard on her left hand, and she felt as if her arm was on fire from within. "Are you alright?" she asked the men.

"Nothing hurt. We have to see what happened," Enjolras said, helping Eponine up by her right hand.

Marius could only shake his head with amazement. "How did that happen?"

The street was absolute chaos when they stepped outside to take a look. People were running everywhere. A few were trying to rescue those pinned down under the carriage

Eponine grabbed Enjolras' hand. "Isn't that a diplomatic carriage?" she said, pointing to the insignia on the door.

"It _looks_ like an accident." Enjolras said, moving aside something that shined on the street.

Marius picked it up. "A knife?" 

"A surin!" Eponine exclaimed, taking it from him. "It belonged to Clausequsous. Someone must have gone though his body..."

Enjolras didn't hear this; he was a good distance away busy helping someone out of the overturned carriage. Marius went over to assist some panicked passersby, leaving Eponine lost in thought.

"And what's this about, young lady?" a voice said behind her.

Eponine would have run if Officer Dufour had not grabbed her by her coat. "Ah...nothing!" she had meant to say, but she could only stammer incoherently.

"You're in possession of a suspicious object,. You will have to come with me," Officer Dufour said.

"It's not mine!" Eponine protested, but before she knew it, she was being hurried away with a group of suspects.

She recognized Montparnasse in the crowd. "What are you doing here?" she hissed. "You had something to do with this, for sure!"

"Getting you out of trouble." Montparnasse said, slipping away. Eponine was about to raise her voice when she saw her old friend go over to talk to Enjolras and Marius.

"What's with everyone today?' she wondered as Officer Dufour led her off.


	47. Seeing Him, Catching Her

**Seeing Him, Catching Her**

Eponine was unceremoniously ushered into a cell, along with the rest of the suspects. Some of the men laughed and hollered obscenities at her as she backed herself up against the bars of the cell.

"Hello there, petit. What puts you here with men like us?" one man snickered.

"Running around with the big ones, I see," another one cackled lewdly.

"Let's see what she's about..." a third said, pawing at her pockets.

"Let go of me!" Eponine shrieked as the men took the bread she had with her. She kicked at them then huddled against the door to protect herself.

"I'm a girl, you can't put me in here!" she protested towards the inspector's back when he passed by an hour later.

"Oh, you're eager for Saint-Lazare now?" Dufour sneered. "You pay up girl, or wait for someone to come and get you. Till then, silence is the word!"

Eponine was about to scream at him when she caught sight of a tall man entering the police station. She laughed, for would have recognized him anywhere.

"Antoine!" she shouted as Enjolras walked towards her.

Enjolras stopped, surprised at hearing him called by his Christian name. "How long have you been there?" he asked.

"Too long!" Eponine replied, reaching for him.

"Hello Citizen, what you've come to rescue the minx?" someone said to Enjolras. "Get us out too!"

Enjolras scowled at them. "That is not for me to decide," he said.

"You could help their cases. I think some o' them might be innocent like me," Eponine said. "Where are Marius and Parnasse?"

"I'll explain later." Enjolras said. He saw Inspector Dufour enter the hall again. "Good day, Inspector. I'm here to clear up this matter regarding these citizens."

"They were at the scene of what is turning out to be an assassination attempt on the diplomats of Austria." Officer Dufour said pompously. "Surely, you must agree that it is in the best interest of the Republic that such people be held till their innocence in the matter can be ascertained."

"They are mostly bystanders. I don't know where you got the rest, but I and several others can vouch for these people. I was there before the carriage was turned over." Enjolras insisted. "It is against the law too to arbitrarily detain someone without due cause."

Inspector Dufour smiled. "Perhaps her release can be arranged..."

"No bribes here," Enjolras said, his normally calm tone now turning imperious. "That in itself is already a crime that can get you prosecuted."

Dufour swore at him. 'You lawyers and Republicans are so much trouble. We didn't have this much trouble under the king...police run as they please without people poking into the business."

"Inspector, the Prefect wants to speak with you." a lackey said. "You too, Citizen Enjolras."

The two men left the hall, and the lackey shut the door behind them. "Ah Citizeness, I didn't know you were spoken for!' one of the men said to Eponine. "If we'd known---"

"Doesn't make a damned diffference!" Eponine snapped, relapsing into her old accent. "Don't you have fees of your own?"

After a few minutes, Dufour returned with an annoyed expression on his face. He broughtout the keys he had with him and looked at the prisoners. "You're all free to go."

"All?" one of the scrawnier suspects asked.

"There's a throng outside." Dufour muttered, opening the cell. "They say that the real assassins got away. The street is an uproar...accusing us of collaring the wrong people."

"And that you did! I was just on my way to work!" a man snapped.

"To see my daughter!"

"I'm still in my nightshirt, you fool!"

"Out with all of you!" Dufour roared.

Eponine lost no time in slipping out of the hall just in time to catch Enjolras at the door of the police station. "However did you do it?" she laughed as she ran up to him.

"Invoking the Charter, and simply reminding them of their duty to the people. On my way here, I saw other people about to complain since almost everyone here is innocent," Enjolras said simply as they let the other prisoners leave the station.

"You aren't joking when you say you work for the people."

"It's all for France. Now, am I going to have to keep you at arm's reach to make sure you don't get into scrapes like this again?"

Eponine shrugged as they went out into the street after the crowd had dispersed. "Now, what of Marius and Montparnasse?" she asked after a while.

"It was Montparnasse who told me of you." Enjolras said, stopping at a corner. "Marius went on ahead to the Palais de Justice."

'You were waiting for me today?"

"I was going to ask you a small favor. Something about books."

Eponine cocked her head. "I'm to try to print more copies of them?"

"Yes. Other people are doing this too, since the work is massive. These are for the schools." Enjolras said. "Some men from the Courgarde wrote the newer texts. The rest are translated or rescued."

Eponine nodded as Enjolras handed her a list. "Greeks and Romans...and Copernicus? What of them?"

"The manuscripts are at the bookshop. The books are to be given to the schools, beginning here in Paris." Enjolras explained.

"Combeferre's idea, I think."

"He was one of those responsible for the plan. It's a worthy endeavor"

Eponine smiled. "Where do you go now?"

"I have to catch a stagecoach. I'll be away a few days." Enjolras replied.

"Oh!" Eponine said, wringing her hands. "What for?"

"There are certain questions that the Republic wants answered," Enjolras said. "I'll be fine, so you and the rest need not worry about me."

"But I shall for a bit, whether you like it or not!" Eponine declared. "You can't make me not do that,' she added as she stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

Enjolras pulled away after a moment. "Eponine..." he said slowly, trying to retain his composure.

"I saw that!" a voice shouted.

"My, I never knew he had it in him, Enjolras, Eponine, so here's where you've been hiding."

Enjolras only paled with shock and humiliation. Eponine buried her face in her hands. "_Mon Dieu..._"she murmured, looking to see all of Les Amis now in the street.


	48. A Convergence of Faces

**A Convergence of Faces**

_hours later_

"We're here at Montfermeil already, Citizen."

Enjolras looked up from the folder he was reading, then nodded grimly. "What are we stopping here for?" he asked the stagecoach driver.

"To water the horses, and perhaps for some of the other travelers to get provisions or what they need," the driver said, chewing on the end of a cigar. "Do you intend to sit in there the entire trip south?"

Enjolras shrugged. "How far is it to Montreuil-sur-mer?"

"A day, two at worst. You have a case there?" the driver asked. "I know you're a lawyer." 

"More than that," Enjolras replied. _"And to think when I left my flat this morning, I had no plans of going this far out of Paris!_" he thought to himself.

However, he reasoned with himself, such trips were inevitable if he was working for the Republic's continued survival. There were many issues that had to be addressed in the countryside. Hundreds of people seeking justice had gone to Paris, Aix, Toulon, and other cities to find lawyers and judges to hear their cases. It was providential that the results for the bar had just been released; now there were a few more lawyers to go around to help address the various petitions and pleas.

Enjolras hadn't counted on being given a case so soon, especially one from the town of Montreuil-sur-mer, but he'd accepted the task graciously for two reasons: one was to help address the appalling situation in that district, and the other was to earn his own living.

He pondered on this fact and other things as he stepped out of the stagecoach to take in the fresh air. _"It seems rather selfish to be altruistic for one's necessity's sake, but I think that Combeferre and Bossuet would reason that there is some reward gained from all this effort on all ends."_ he decided after a time.

He noticed a lanky person seated on the cracked stone step of a decrepit building nearby. The establishment looked as if it had been abandoned in a hurried fashion; the windows were open, and there were still pencil sketches on the walls.

Enjolras went closer and recognized the sitter on the step of the abandoned inn. "I see your curiousity brings you here, Marius?" 

Marius looked up, astonished on hearing his friend. "You could say that. It's all for Cosette...for her peace of mind," the baron explained, excitement tinging his voice. "And you?" 

"Have work to do. I'm on my way to Montreuil-sur-mer." 

"So was I. I rode outside the stagecoach, and only got my place this morning after that incident near the bookshop. Did you get Eponine out of the prison?"

Enjolras crossed his arms, trying not to look abashed at the memory of the hell that had transpired after that incident. "That, and more."

"A troublesome debacle?"

"Not quite, actually." 

"I thought you'd be inclined to stay in Paris to find out who tried to kill the delegation?"

"There are many other people on top of that. Besides, even before I made my way there to the shop, I already was given this inquiry in that town. The Assembly can do without some people for a few days; I'm not the only one who's had to take a leave from the city of contradictions." 

Marius smiled. "Rumor has it you're running in the elections next month."

"No. I have no plans of doing so, not unless it's for the betterment of the people. I'll only do it if I'm prevailed upon," Enjolras said. "Are you sure you intend on riding atop that stagecoach the whole way?" 

Marius looked down. "I'll explain one of these days why."

Enjolras nodded and looked up at the building they were near. "This used to be an inn..."

Marius sighed. "The Thenardiers ran this place. It's hard to believe, really. When I first saw them in the Gorbeau tenement, I didn't think they had anything to do with the man who saved my father. Seeing Eponine, Azelma, and Gavroche now, it's almost impossible to think they once had a childhood in this place."

"Appearances are deceiving, Marius." Enjolras said wryly, putting a hand on the dirty wall of the inn. "You found anything of interest?" 

"Old wooden clogs, some old furniture...nothing that could really tell me or Cosette anything. I think Thenardier took all the old papers away, or destroyed them," Marius shrugged. "I was hoping to be able to return home tonight, but I'm not sure that's an option."

"Welcome to the open road, Marius."   
_back in Paris_

"I can't print these!"

Eponine fought to keep a straight face as she took the list back from M. Ravigard. "And why not? It gives some good income."

"So do these," M. Ravigard shrugged, gesturing to other pamphlets and books on a table. "Texts from abroad. From nobles. From England."

Eponine snatched them up, and shook her head as she surveyed the titles. "How does it pay well?" she asked, putting down the half-finished books.

"My dear Eponine, it is ridiculous to keep printing books and distributing them for such a low cost." M. Ravigard said coolly.

"But most people can't afford them! I can't, for sure, if they were any more expensive...I'll talk to Combeferre, ask if anything can be done."

"Nothing more can be done. I need to live, so do you. So put aside that list; we'll get to it some other time when I am through with these..." 

Eponine bit her lip. "Is there any way? Enjolras asked me to see to it; he's not in Paris now, and I don't want him to come back to nothing."

"Then write to him," M. Ravigard said almost flippantly.

Eponine stood up straight. "Then excuse me, _Monsieur_," she said vehemently, reaching for paper, ink, and a pen, before heading to the door. 

"Where are you going?" M. Ravigard asked sharply. But by this time, the working girl had left the shop.

Eponine ran to the Musain, making sure to avoid the scene of the accident she'd witnessed that morning. She found a table in a corner and dipped her pen in the inkwell she'd brought.

"Now how to call him? How to say it?" she wondered. _Citizen_ seemed inadequate, while _cheri_ seemed too bold.

"Writing a love letter?" a voice greeted. Eponine looked up into the faces of Musichetta, Azelma, and two others she did not recognize. 

"_Mais non_. What are you doing here?" Eponine asked.

"Waiting for the men," Musichetta explained. She gestured to the two strangers with her. "Eponine, I'd like you to meet Claire D'Aubain and Claudine Andreas."

"Yes, yes, I remember your names. Enjolras' cousin and Combeferre's lady friend?" Eponine asked.

"Actually, I'm also L'aigle's lady friend," Claire said in a whisper.

"We're supposed to meet them here. I have to give Francois back his copy of Plato," Claudine added.

Eponine frowned at her sister. "This is Jehan's doing, I'm sure."

"Maybe," Azelma said. "But it's no worse than what you and Enjolras were doing this morning..."

"What? What were they doing this morning?" Musichetta asked, eyes widening with consternation.

"Oh haven't you heard? Out near the police station..." Claire giggled. "My own cousin, can you believe it, having such a moment..."

Musichetta stared at Eponine. "You didn't..."

Eponine looked down shame-facedly. "He wasn't happy about it."

"Or so he'd like you to think," Claudine pointed out. "I pity these men. If they knew what we talk about..."

Azelma shrugged. "I eavesdrop, so I know it's the same for us too. Gossip is quite something, don't you think? Now what are you writing, Ponine?"

"A note, but it's urgent." Eponine said. "It's _not_ a love note! I don't know how to write one anyhow..."

Azelma smiled. "Jehan taught me a bit. Here, give me that pen."


	49. Errantry

**Errantry**

"Gavroche! Hey you there, with the sewn up trousers!" Navet hollered in the middle of the street as he watched a throng of young students leave the schoolhouse. Among them were the Thenardier brothers.

Gavroche turned at the sound of his old friend's voice. "Navet, saucy fellow, what brings you to the desert?" he asked the more shabbily dressed boy.

Navet blew his nose and surveyed the smaller boys that Gavroche had with him. "Are they your _momes_?"

"Yes, and yours?" 

"On my own feet. Look, new shoes."

Gavroche looked down appreciatively at his comrade's shod feet. Navet added, "So you waiting for someone?"

Jacques scratched his nose. "Papa hasn't been in town two days."

"You have a _pere_?" Navet asked confusedly. "I thought..." 

"Ah, these ridiculous little ones," Gavroche said, shaking his head. "It's all because of my sister and the time we lived with those students. You remember that smooth-faced gent who asked you to go to Corinth?"

Navet nodded. "So he's been to do with your sister?"

"Not really, she just talks to him a lot. And he got her out of the jug two days ago," Gavroche shrugged. "Too young to be my father anyway." 

The four young boys continued walking till they reached a small sort of bistro near the schoolhouse. "Where Zelma works," Neville explained to Navet. "She's our other sister." 

Ever since recovering from her illness, Azelma had found work as a daytime cook. This new development allowed the Thenardier siblings to spend the evenings at home or with friends. Today, Azelma was busy chopping onions when her brothers entered the kitchen by the backdoor.

"Don't go asking me now for 'nything. Have my hands full." Azelma said when she saw them. "If I finish early, I'm off somewhere."

"I saw Citizen Jehan in the front room!" Neville said cheekily.

Azelma smiled. "Yes, I know he's with Joly and Musichetta. They're waiting for me. I haven't the time to talk; go and bother Ponine or go to the front room if you like."

The front room of the bistro was comfortably furnished, with well-upholstered chairs and tastefully framed pictures on the walls. "Here, nice old toadstools to perch on," Navet said as he and the boys sat at a table near the window.

"Oh what are you all doing here?" Musichetta asked them.

"You boys are out of school?" Jehan added.

"Out, yes, and wild over Paris. And by the way, here is my comrade Navet," Gavroche said by way of introduction.

"I know him, from the barricade." Joly said. "How do you do?"

"My eyes better than yours," Navet grinned.

The entire group chatted amiably for a while, till it grew dark outside. It was when the first star shone in the sky that they even thought of leaving, and Azelma finally emerged from the kitchen.

"Well, shall we go now?" she asked, wiping her hands.

Just then, the bistro door banged open, and Eponine entered with a wide grin on her face. "I've done it. I've just been to the post and to the printers. And to think I had to write my note so many times over...there was no way I was sending what I wrote the other day," she said triumphantly. "Now Enjolras had better not say I didn't tell him. When he comes back, I'll help him answer for it."

"Answer for what?" Joly asked confusedly.

"Oh, a little errand. At M. Ravigard's expense, I fear."

_Montreuil-sur-mer_

Enjolras looked at the address scrawled on the folder. "Madame Victurnien, 35 Rue Ligne," he said. "Is that the right address?"

The young boy at the post office nodded. "She still lives there. Old hag never moved. I'll go with you and the Baron, if you like?" 

"Actually, what I'd like is to see the old factory here. I know it hasn't been in good shape for several years..." Marius said.

"I'll ask someone to bring you there," the young assistant said, scrambling off the desk and hurrying to the backroom.

"I was planning to go there tomorrow, but why are you in a hurry?" Enjolras asked Marius.

"I have a feeling that Cosette's mother might have worked there. I'd like to see the roster, or better yet, acquire a copy," Marius said. He looked around the squalid post office. "This city has seen better days."

"Yes, much like your father-in-law. You never explained why he doesn't live with you anymore."

"He had a terrible admission to make. He's an ex-convict." 

"Marius, what difference did that ever make?"

"He killed that Inspector Javert. He was in the galleys...a man like that, near Cosette...I almost cannot believe it."

Enjolras' eyes hardened. "He saved your life."

Marius swallowed. "I told him so. But he said that 'his past would endanger us all'. What secrets can he be hiding?"

"An ill-considered thought," Enjolras muttered just as the assistant returned with a letter in hand.

"A lady must have missed you very quickly!" the assistant chortled, holding up the note. 

"It's from Eponine, no doubt," Marius said.

"Give it to me," Enjolras said sternly to the boy, who handed the letter to him, laughing all the while. The lawyer's eyes narrowed as he opened the envelope and read the note covered in Eponine's hurried scrawl:

_Bonjour, Antoine! ___

_I have done my best with that little thing you gave me to do. M. Ravigard doesn't want to print the books; he says it's so expensive. But since I know people are waiting, I had them printed elsewhere. The printers guild are happy; less people to divide all with. It's a bit more costly than you'd planned, but I think you can make up the difference. You owe me a few sous though; the last shop had to do another run, so forgive the ink blots. ___

_Anyhow, it's fine here in Paris. No word yet as to what happened with that carriage; most of the diplomats are fine, but two are still in the hospital. Much talk going around. They are holding the Charter everywhere. I wish you were here to explain some of it to them, or to me. ___

_Till your return, ___

_Eponine_

Enjolras shook his head as he folded up the note, a little wary of the familiar tone the correspondence had taken. "What will I do with that girl?" he said wryly. "At least it's all in good hands on her part."

Marius crossed his arms. "I never knew you to be so trusting, especially of Eponine. I was under the impression you detested her."

Enjolras put the note in his pocket. "Not quite. I have no interest in her, and it is her choice if she wants to help me. I will not impose on her."

Marius smiled. "I've seen this before, Enjolras. That poor girl. If she only knew..."


	50. Tell Me Quickly What's the Story

**Tell Me Quickly What's The Story**

_The next day: Fauborg Saint Antoine, Paris_

"Are you sure you want to go with me here, Cosette? It might be a little dangerous, especially for you" 

"It's more of my story than yours,"

Eponine sighed. "Very well. Stay close...I promised myself I'd never ever come back here!"

"Why, I thought you lived at that old Gorbeau house?" Cosette asked, looking around the dingy neighborhood. The fauborg had received a little improvement since the revolution; more people worked, and less loafed, and the street was empty of refuse. Still, the houses hadn't yet lost their forbidding look.

Eponine cringed. "No, I never really lived here, but I know the street," she said quietly. It was the neighborhood where she'd spent one week as a streetwalker.

The two young girls were dressed in drab clothing; Cosette had put aside her lace collars, while Eponine wore a work dress and her usual coat. They were inconspicuous as they wove through the usual traffic of people passing by each ramshackle building. At last, Eponine stopped in front of a dilapidated six-storey tenement.

"Here. Montparnasse said to go to the top floor," she said. She looked at Cosette and shook her head. "No, you shouldn't climb so far, not as you are. Wait down here while I run up,"

"I thought you didn't speak any more to them," Cosette said as they entered the rundown house.

"Ah, but Papa is still Papa, and Parnasse is a good boy when he keeps his lingre away," Eponine said, laughing to herself at her own joke as she hurried up the stairs. The sound of her footsteps hadn't quite faded when a creaky door opened on the third storey.

"Eponine?" the voice of M. Thenardier was heard from the upper floors.

"Papa, there you are! No, it's not about that. The Lark is asking...she wants to know about her mamma," Eponine said hurriedly.

"I don't remember. I don't care. Ask that old man. He'd know better." 

"He's not saying anything. Papa, you knew. So did Maman, but God rest her! Don't you have a letter, a note? I know the lady wrote!"

"What will you give me?"

"I haven't a sou! And I need a new coat..."

Downstairs, Cosette strained to hear the rest of the discussion, now carried out in low voices. At last, she heard footsteps getting further away, followed by a long silence. Five minutes later, Eponine reappeared on the stairway, clutching a yellowed paper. She was out of breath for having run down the stairs.

"It was under the bed. It's that last note, the one that got you away leaving us with the fifteen hundred francs..." Eponine explained, thrusting the note at her friend. "Read and see, your mamma was sending for you!" 

Cosette looked at the letter for a few moments before tremulously folding it up and putting it in her pocket. "Thank you, Eponine. Twice over, you've made my happiness complete. Now if only my father could be happy himself...if things could be as it used to be with us," she said softly.

Eponine smiled crookedly. "First one was for Marius, the second I don't know. I don't really know why. Now we'd better go; Marius won't be happy that I brought you here!"

The two girls went out into the street, only to catch sight of another familiar face as they neared the end of the street. "It's him, isn't it?" Cosette asked Eponine.

Eponine shrugged diffidently. "What's the going, Montparnasse?" she called to the newcomer.

The dandy smiled at her worriedly. "You saved me a trip. I may as well tell you. I've just spoken with Magnon."

Eponine's eyes widened. "Oh and how? She's out?"

"We all are. Listen girl, she wants the boys," Montparnasse said darkly. 

"No! You know I never approved of it!"

"What difference does it make?"

Eponine looked up at him, a hard look going into her already rough face. "I won't let her! Mamma didn't want her boys, but I want my brothers!"

"Quiet, Eponine, you're making a scene!" Montparnasse hissed. "And with her here too!" he added, glancing at Cosette.

"Tell me where she is," Eponine demanded.

"On the way to your flat."

"Oh!" Eponine muttered. "Cosette, you'd better find a fiacre home. And I have to make a run," 

"You'll get there faster in a fiacre," Cosette said.

"I haven't the time! I'll see you all after!" Eponine said, hurrying into the shadows.

_Montreuil-sur-mer_

Madame Victurnien, now a wizened old hag, looked even more dried up as she frowned at Enjolras. "Why you and that other attorney are bothering with that tramp's story, I don't want to know. I just need my paper settled, young man." 

"It's an affair that needs to be brought to light. That, and the story of the mayor of this town. His name was Jean Valjean, that we all know. Your name was on the roster of factory workers" Enjolras explained, standing up straight. He could see eye to eye with the crone, even though Madame Victurnien stood on a step. 

Madame Victurnien laughed. "We all had to make a living."

"So did Fantine. Her name was there. You knew her, I'm sure," Enjolras said wearily.

When he and Marius had visited the factory, an old foreman had given them the roster of every worker who'd spent at least a month in the factory. Many of the names listed were already gone from the town. A few, like Madame Victurnien, still lingered.

However, almost all the listed had family to speak of, save for some, one of them being Fantine. It was only natural that the inquiry began with such loopholes on the paper.

"We knew him as M. Madeleine. What a virtuous though odd man. I will admit that when he was taken, I was lucky to have survived all the same," Madame Victurnine said with a cruel smile. "I'm not sorry for putting that whore out of the factory. I knew she could never acknowledge that child of hers, so she left him with that Dernard family in Montfermeil." 

"You mean Thenardier?" Marius asked from his seat nearby.

"That's the name. That girl was one of the urchins here, then she got airs and went to Paris," Madame Victurnien said, turning to spit. "Then she went back here, showing off that blonde hair and that smile, playing the innocent and acting like the angel when the truth was..."

Marius' eyes narrowed with fury. "Leave her be. She's dead already." 

"I expected that much. What of? The clap? Consumption? Whatever streetwalkers die of?" Madame Victurnien asked. "What are you anyway? Some relatives of hers?"

"She would have been my mother-in-law. Madame Victurnien, my wife needs to know what happened." Marius said firmly.

"Well, the woman died. Here in the town. And buried I don't know where. Probably the mayor took care of it." Madame Victurnien said. "He was planning to go to Montfermeil, so I hear from the boys who carried the post."

"And this was when?" Marius asked. 

"Good Lord, you expect me to remember?" Madame Victurnien scolded. "It must have been some eight winters ago, or less!"

"Eight...it all fits, Enjolras!" Marius said, now driven to excitement. "Cosette said she came to Paris eight years ago. Her mother had blonde hair, she remembered!" 

"Calm down, Marius We can't know for sure..." Enjolras said, smiling slightly. "Now Madame, the papers..." 

Madame Victurnien snatched the documents from Enjolras' hand and affixed her signature to them. "Your business is concluded," she said. "Oh and one more thing, about the mayor..." 

"Well, what of him?"

Madame Victurnien smiled in the way that gossips do when the puzzles of their garbled information suddenly acquire a thread of explanation. "He was probably the one who fetched that girl, if you know she's in Paris." 

The lawyers exchanged astonished looks. "Monsieur Fauchelevent...Jean Valjean?" Marius said at last. "An ex-convict with the heart of an angel..."

"He may as well be," Enjolras said, shaking his head as the enormity of Marius' mistake now dawned on him. "Now we'd better go back to Paris and you had better ask your father-in-law..."

"And make amends! Oh God, what have I done?" Marius groaned. "If Cosette knew...and Tholomyes!"

Enjolras turned back to Madame Victurnien. "As happy as I am to have been of help to you, I think it is you who have done the greater service." 

Madame Victurnien scowled at them. "You and your inquiries. Now take your friend away before his voice goes through my ears!"

Enjolras and Marius did not have to be told twice. In a few hours, they were headed back towards Paris, which was now shrouded with rain.


	51. Mon Freres

**Mon Freres**

"Now what has happened here that has turned Paris into London?"

Enjolras shivered as he drew his coat more tightly around him against the pouring rain. It had been two days since he and Marius had left Montreuil-sur-mer. Or rather, two nights.

Had Enjolras been as inclined to sciences as Combeferre was, he would have known that such rainy spells were really part and parcel of the winter, and that snow wasn't always inevitable due to various factors on the ground and in the surroundings. As it was though, Enjolras was only left to pondering how to get out of the rain that had suddenly come upon him after he'd parted company with Marius.

"Will Combeferre be home at this hour?" he wondered aloud as he stepped over a puddle. He was thankful that his shoes didn't let in the water, and that he also had remembered to wear a hat while traveling.

The rain was by now merciless, and was accompanied as well by some wind. Over the sound of the rising storm, Enjolras could hear voices. Shouting. Two women.

On the steps of a tenement stood a tall woman, dressed gaudily under a shawl that brushed against the mud on her slippers. She was arguing heatedly with a girl wearing nothing much more than a work dress and teamster's boots.

"You've come here ten times already in the last two days. Aren't you tired? I won't budge!" Eponine said resolutely.

"You have to pay back all the francs I gave your father for Jacques and Neville. And I know you can't do that yourself, girl!" Magnon said to her sharply. 

Eponine drew herself up to her full height. "I will. My sister works now. We're not so poor anymore; we're making a living. I'll pay you by and by."

Magnon glared at her. "Yes, and ten francs times thirty-six months while you take away my bread?" 

Eponine laughed. "That old bourgeois knows. He's seen the boys. He knows they belonged to my mama and papa." 

Enjolras listened intently from the street, aware that he'd stumbled upon yet another Pandora's Box. He heard Magnon mutter something vehemently before stomping out alone into the stormy night and towards a waiting fiacre.

"Now what are you standing there for?" Magnon snapped, noticing him at last. "Well, stay out of it. None of that law or charter can help here," she added, getting into the fiacre. Enjolras had to get out of the street before his clothes got splashed with mud.

From the tenement, Eponine ran down, apparently forgetting that she had no coat or hat to shelter her from the storm. "Antoine?" she giggled, realizing who Magnon was talking to. "At this late hour too? How was your trip?"

"Eponine, I'd appreciate it if you were...more discreet in public," Enjolras said politely. "Now get back inside, you'll get sick if you stand out here with me." 

"Ah no, you're not standing here," Eponine said. "Do come up. It's warm. I've had a late dinner; there's still something left."

Enjolras was tempted to refuse, but the mention of food and a safe place to wait out the storm was too good to ignore. "Just for a while, Eponine," he said with a nod. After all, there was much that they had to talk over.

The flat was quiet when they opened the door. In the dim candlelight, Enjolras saw Azelma and Gavroche asleep in one bed, and Jacques and Neville on the other. He guessed, judging by some rolled up blankets in a corner, that Eponine still slept on the floor.

Now though, Eponine sat on one of the crates, carefully cutting some bread, and then pouring two cups of tea. There was a small pot of soup also on the table. "Do sit down. Do you want anything?" she asked.

Enjolras reached for one of the cups. "You could tell me what happened exactly with M. Ravigard and the books." 

"I knew you'd ask," Eponine said, smiling at him. "Very well, it went something like this. So I asked him, he said no. I know the other people in that business, so I asked them. They were willing to do it; the money was being given already, and M. Ravigard saying no only added more. He found out yesterday; he's not happy, but I still have my work. Combeferre and Feuilly gave out the books yesterday. So did some of the other men..."

Enjolras gave her a grateful look. "Thank you, Eponine," he said softly, pressing her hand lightly.

"Now you tell me what happened with you. I heard you went to Montreuil-sur-mer. Did you see Marius?" Eponine asked eagerly.

Briefly, Enjolras narrated what had become of his venture. "I expect that Marius is telling his wife now the entire story," he finished after some time.

Eponine cringed. "So that's what became of Cosette's mamma?"

"Yes, unfortunately." Enjolras said. He felt a little smug telling Eponine the story; he knew how the girl used to speak ill of Cosette's parentage.

_"She did the same thing you also did for Gavroche and yourself,"_ he thought as he waited for Eponine to compose herself.

Eponine swallowed hard. "You heard what happened outside? Magnon wanting to get back my brothers?"

"Part of it," Enjolras admitted. "A previous arrangement, from what I gather?" 

"I was too young to object when Maman gave them away. They're hard to take care of, but they're my brothers." Eponine sighed, but an amused smile played on her face. "I didn't think I'd find them again, but here they are...they're wonderful boys, don't you think?"

Just then, a knock sounded on the door. Enjolras quickly let go of Eponine's hand.

"Is anybody there?" Combeferre's voice asked.

Enjolras stood up and opened the door. "Surprised, _mon ami?"_ he greeted, almost laughing to see Combeferre's shocked expression. 

"Well of course, Enjolras. I come back from curing a patient, and you nearly kill me with a fright," Combeferre laughed. "It's good to see you again!"

Eponine looked at him keenly. "Still more news? What hasn't Jehan told us yet?"

"Now what about Jehan?" Enjolras asked confusedly.

"And Azelma," Combeferre said slowly.

Now it was Enjolras' turn to appear surprised. "You mean..."

Eponine rolled her eyes. "His poetry all over her books. He's been pining for her. Chetta told me so; she saw them. And Joly warned Jehan earlier today that if he wasn't careful, he'd be out of sorts in a few hours."

"Well, it's good to see that politics hasn't overcome the hypochondria," Combeferre said. "There are crucial decisions to be made tomorrow with the diplomats."

"After that assassination attempt?" Enjolras inquired.

"_Because_ of it. There's to be a trial; but you'll have to go by the Palais de Justice to get the full story," Combeferre explained.

Enjolras nodded. "It will be difficult. We have no choice but to sit in." 

Combeferre shook his head. "You are becoming so serious."

"With reason," Enjolras retorted. 

"There always is, for you. You'll work yourself ragged if you're not careful," Combeferre warned. "Must Courfeyrac, Eponine and I always have to drag you away from your work?" he added more lightly.

Eponine put a hand on Enjolras' arm. "He's right. We all...I do worry about you, I told you so before."

Enjolras turned red at the memory of what had happened on the street days before. Combeferre realized this, and smiled knowingly.

"_Mon frere_, for a man of your brilliance, you are awfully dim sometimes," the philosopher chuckled, sitting back in an attitude of contempalation. "_Les extremes_ together, it's all a part of nature."


	52. Of Sons and Daughters

**Of Sons and Daughters**

_The next day, Palais de Justice_

"No...it can't be..."

Felix Tholomyes collapsed into his seat in the courtroom gallery. He shook his head and stared at Marius. "Fantine, dead? Are you quite sure?" 

"Enjolras and I inquired in Montreuil-sur-mer. And it all fits with the note that Cosette showed to me. I'm sorry, Tholomyes," Marius said, sitting down next to the older lawyer. 

Tholomyes' chest was heaving as he took deep breaths. He buried his head in his hands. "Such a beautiful girl, only to come to that!" he said remorsefully. "And that means your wife..."

"Is your daughter," Marius said in a level tone. It was as if the young man was struggling to reconcile the image of his acquaintance with the harbinger of all of Cosette's misfortunes.

Tholomyes caught the strained edge in Marius' voice. "You need time to think this over, and so do I. Thank you for telling me, Baron Pontmercy," he said quietly, all the good cheer gone from his eyes.

Marius nodded and went to the door of the Palais de Justice. He froze as he saw Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac enter. "_Bonjour mes amis_" he greeted curtly.

"Where were you going, Marius?" Enjolras asked. "The trial is starting very soon."

"To see a man who I don't feel worthy enough to call "Father". I have been an ungrateful wretch, you all know that," Marius said hurriedly, heading out into the street.

Courfeyrac glanced confusedly at Marius' back. "A successful catch in Montreuil-sur-mer?" he asked Enjolras.

"More like Pandora's box," Enjolras said. "It's not my place to divulge; the truth shall be illuminated shortly."

Just then, Grantaire and Feuilly hurried in. "Coming for the news?" Grantaire asked his friends.

"Yes. Nothing stays still these days." Combeferre said with a smile.

Feuilly took a deep breath. "The suspects in the assassination attempt were caught."

"Thank goodness," Courfeyrac said. 

"But they insist that Enjolras represent them in the trial," Feuilly added.

"What?!" Enjolras and Combeferre said.

"Defending cruel Justice, who is blind to you as well as them!" Grantaire said with a sardonic laugh. "You are running up the walls."

"To hopefully get over them," Enjolras said. He looked at Grantaire resolutely. "Say what you will say, but I'll do what it takes to bring justice to those who need it. If you find yourself incapable of doing likewise, then you'd better leave your commentary elsewhere." 

Grantaire sighed. "You are hoping for much. And it is not much good to lie on one's back in the mud, simply looking at the stars."

Enjolras would have said something scathing in response to the metaphor, had not Combeferre stepped in. "Grantaire, you have reason to be concerned, but do restrain the discouragements. In any case, Enjolras, you had better prepare. Are the suspects at the prison?" he asked.

"La Force," Grantaire replied.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre shuddered. "So what of it?" Courfeyrac asked. "Unless you want to ask..." 

Enjolras paused, as if deliberating, then nodded. "Only so that we may not be too hasty to judge those who blow down the houses many built with blood and sorrow," he said to himself as he and his friends went in the direction of the prisons.

_hours later, Rue del Lamarque_

"So what did Joly do?" Azelma asked Musichetta eagerly.

Musichetta sighed dramatically. "Oh, he begged with me, asking that I do not suddenly leave him again for Bossuet or anything. The poor dear!" 

"But you're still having a wedding next week?" Cosette asked warily.

"Well of course!" Musichetta said. "I may fight with him a lot, but I love Patrice more than my very own breath."

"Like I love Marius. Or my father." Cosette said.

"Which one?" Azelma asked.

"The one I've known," Cosette said, a radiant smile spreading across her beautiful face. "I missed him so, and wondered why he was acting so odd. So imagine when Marius woke me this morning, saying we should go to him! A bird could not have flown faster."

"So how is he?" Musichetta asked.

Cosette sighed. "He was a day from falling ill. We carried him back with us; I've made him promise never to go off like that again!" she said triumphantly. "I begged him, for the sake of my child. Would that he were my father by blood, so that he would have more of a claim to me and Marius! But love is enough." 

"It may be so," Musichetta said thoughtfully. 

Cosette hushed her friends, gesturing to the throng that was gathered at the steps of the assembly hall. "Someone's giving an address."

Musichetta walked a few paces as if to listen. After a minute, she grinned widely. "It's Francois, or rather, Combeferre. Talking of right and the need of education in the schools. I expect that Enjolras will be giving a speech soon, if he hasn't already."

Azelma nodded. "Gallery seats, as Gavroche likes to say?"

The three young women walked closer to the crowd and climbed up unto benches that were put out nearby explicitly for that purpose.

"I can't find Marius in here." Cosette said anxiously, holding on to the back of the bench she stood on.

"He's with Bossuet and Bahorel, over there," Musichetta said, pointing to a place near the makeshift podium. "Then there's Grantaire, sitting with Feuilly. Enjolras is by the podium.

Cosette stood on tiptoe and nodded. "Azelma, who do you see?"

"Jehan, Joly, Courfeyrac...and of course, Ponine," Azelma drawled. She gestured to where Eponine stood at the edge of the crowd. 

"Monsieurs, gentlemen, may we request that the ladies be asked to leave?" Metternich asked Combeferre when the latter finished his speech. "This discussion cannot continue with them present."

An uproar ensued. Shouts and oaths were on all sides; some agreeing with Metternich, others protesting on behalf of the women. "Order, please!" a police inspector roared. 

Enjolras stepped up to the podium. "It is their right to listen, and to participate as per the rules of this assembly," he said firmly. "If the right to read is given in the schools, then the results should be made felt in the full. If there is to be a sending away, let it be of each man's own accord."

One of the other Austrian diplomats scoffed. "Too much opinion is a poison in the making. Do you expect those gamines out there to understand in halves what we speak of here?"

"We'd better go home," Musichetta said to Cosette as murmurs began again in the crowd.

Cosette nodded. "Till they can let go of some pride, things can turn ugly," she said, getting down from her perch. Azelma followed suit, looking anxiously to see if Eponine would also quit the crowd.

"I hope we'll see them at supper, and not in the hospital or the morgue," Azelma said disappointedly on finding no sign of Eponine.

Had Azelma looked more keenly, she would have seen her sister greet Enjolras as soon as he left the podium. If she'd seen the amused smile on Enjolras' face when he noticed the tricolor ribbon in Eponine's hair, surely much more conjecture would have been made over dinner that evening.

But as it was, a storm of a different sort was to brew.


	53. Mon Pere

**Mon Pere**

_Two days later, near the schoolhouse_

Eponine frowned as she looked at the tobacco-stained letter in her hand. "Now what would my father want to write to Antoine for?" she asked herself. "Should I even still give it, now that I've opened it?" 

She'd been carrying around the letter the whole afternoon in her pocket,.She'd intercepted it during a short trip home to find some lunch during her idle hour on the job. Now, she had made up her mind to see to two tasks: fetching her brothers from school, and giving the letter to Enjolras if she managed to find him.

Eponine stopped outside the schoolhouse and waved to her brothers who were at play with the other children. Little Jacques immediately dropped the twig he'd been waving about and ran to his sister.

"Ponine!" he greeted, embracing his sister tightly.

"Is he your boy, Citizenness?" a young schoolmaster asked from nearby. "You're awfully young, I dare say."

Eponine turned red as she picked up her brother. "He's my youngest brother, actually," she explained. "My mother is gone, and ah...it's a little hard to explain, really."

The teacher nodded. "Your father?"

Jacques looked around. "He's not here, not now."

"He never is," Neville said, coming up with Gavroche at his heels.

"But I saw him just yesterday! And he said he was busy, but he and 'Ferre would come and see us!" Jacques protested.

"'Ferre? Citizen Combeferre, the doctor-revolutionary?" the teacher asked.

Eponine sighed. "We'd better go now, boys," she said, letting Neville and Jacques hold her hands as Gavroche walked beside her.

_"This is too hard for me to make sense of! Jacques thinks that Enjolras is his father...Neville calls my friends 'Uncle' and 'Aunt', and Gavroche is just being Gavroche...now I wish Maman was here to straighten this all out...I wish I didn't have to be mother to my brothers!"_ Eponine mused as she walked on in the direction of the Palais de Justice, where she figured her friends would be at during the day.

Sure enough, she caught sight of Jehan about to enter the building. "Away from your lessons already?" she called to him.

Jehan turned and smiled at her. "I'm looking for Courfeyrac. And I suspect you're here for Enjolras?"

Eponine looked down, abashed at having been read so easily. "Has it become a habit, Jehan?"

"He doesn't exactly drive you away anymore, we've noticed," Courfeyrac said, appearing at the doorway. "Enjolras is at the trial."

Eponine bit back a curse, remembering what had been keeping her favorite comrade so occupied lately. "Now what will I do with this letter? I've opened it, thinking it was for _me_, but I was wrong. Now why my father would write to any of you, I don't know."

Gavroche turned up his nose. "Now there's a proper mystery, Ponine." 

Eponine drew the letter out of her pocket and unfolded it, wrinkling her nose at the smell of tobacco that clung to the paper. 

"Now there's someone who needs reeducation," Courfeyrac said as he read over Eponine's shoulder. The note was illegible, but anyone could, after careful scrutiny, discern these words:

_To the most esteemed Citizen Enjolras, ___

_I beg your gracious inndulgence in accepting my humble gratittude for your solicitious care of my children. It is in this light that I approch you with confidenc that you wil help me with this venture. ___

_I intend to move to America as a colonist. I fear the Parisian climate is not good for me, and if I stay here a week longer, I shall sicken furrther. I am unable to rise from bed, and have asked my friend Babet to bring this leter to you. I beeseech your help in geting the papers I shall need for travel. I will be taking my daughter Eponine with me, for I shall need a prop in my old age. ___

_I await your answer soon. You may find me at 40 in the fauborg Saint-Antoine. ___

_Most respectfully, ___

_Thenardier_

"Now what will you do?" Jehan asked Eponine.

Eponine shrugged. "I have half a mind not to deliver it. I don't want to go to America, really. Not now, not ever."

Courfeyrac and Jehan exchanged knowing looks. "Your father's plan...is he really going through with it?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Who knows? I have an answer though," Eponine said, a smile spreading across her face. "My own answer," she added, noticing the looks on the young men's faces.

"Your own answer, to what query?" Enjolras asked, walking up to behind Eponine and Courfeyrac.

"Would you still want to know? It's addressed to you, yet concerns her," Courfeyrac quibbled. 

Enjolras took the note that Eponine handed to him. "You may have saved yourself from some calamity, Eponine," he said after reading the letter. "Is he always like this?"

"I've brought worse messages," Eponine winced. "To people all over. The worst though was from Cosette to Marius, and look where that got me!"

Courfeyrac laughed. "The upside of misfortune."

Meanwhile, Jacques tugged on the hem of Enjolras' coat. "Are you still coming to see us?" the child asked.

"When I can, _petit_," Enjolras replied almost absent-mindedly.

Jacques and Neville exchanged knowing looks. "Can we have some money to buy sweets?" Neville asked, being the braver of the two.

Eponine shook her head. "Haven't a sou on me now, besides what we need for dinner." 

Jehan dug into his pocket and gave the boys a franc. "Actually, this one was for Azelma, to get her a shawl," he explained.

Enjolras pulled at something in Eponine's hair. "It had come loose" he said, handing her the tricolor ribbon that had held back her tresses.

Eponine laughed as she retied the ribbon. "It's almost Gavroche's birthday. He will be thirteen."

"Almost a young man, but still very much the child," Jehan mused.

"Very much like my son the Jacobin here!" a sharp voice said from nearby.

Everyone turned to see an elegantly dressed gentleman standing not far from where they were. His golden hair had streaks of gray in it, but he did not have a cane. The cold fury in his blue eyes told the young people that he'd heard most of their conversation.

Enjolras looked the newcomer straight in the eye and adopted a stiff posture. "Welcome to Paris, _mon pere,"_


	54. Orphaned in a Manner of Speaking

_A/N: To avoid some confusion for this chapter only, I'll be calling Enjolras by the name I gave him, which is 'Antoine', and his father 'Louis'. Why couldn't have Victor Hugo given the boys of Les Amis some first names?_

**Orphaned in a Manner of Speaking**

Furious couldn't even hold a candle to the state of Louis Enjolras' mind as he glowered at his only child. For propriety's sake, he decided to confront Antoine in private, in this case, in the flat on the Rue Richelieu.

"I go here to Paris on business, and what news do I hear? That you're behind the writing of that damned Citizens Charter, and you're defending a bunch of scoundrels and assassins?" he said, pounding a table with his fist. "You'd break your mother's heart, boy!"

Antoine did not get up from his chair. "Firstly, that charter is not entirely my handiwork. I did have a part in helping make a few of its provisions, and so did other factions, other representatives. All in all, it is a work of the citizens as a whole," he said coolly. "Secondly, it is the duty of any lawyer to help bring about justice to those who need it. The people I will be fighting for in the case may be guilty, or not, but they deserve justice all the same."

Louis' eyes narrowed. "Don't be insolent with me. I could do worse than cut you out of my will."

Antoine had stop himself from smiling too widely. Ever since that letter he'd received almost six months ago, he had not received a sou from his family, but had managed to live all the same.

"Well, I am making my own living now. Like everybody else, in fact," he simply said. "Most of my friends do now. We pay our taxes, work with the people, and it does not make a difference what our parents give us or not." 

Louis reddened with fury. It was common knowledge that months ago, he'd written with the intent of making his 'errant son' come home to Nice to grovel. However, it had clearly backfired on him. 

"Yes, you associate with working men, with the rabble, with the scum of the earth! That fanmaker Feuilly, those skirtchasers Bahorel and Lesgle!" the older man sputtered. "Imagine what explaining I've had to do to your aunt, to my friends! All you boys; de Courfeyrac, Prouvaire, you especially, are the shame of your families. Even that Baron Pontmercy! Fighting an insurrection, bah!" 

"Revolution," Antoine said curtly.

Louis crossed his arms. "And on top of that you take on a mistress? Who was that whore I saw with you today?"

Antoine raised an eyebrow confusedly. "What? Who?"

"Don't play the fool. That trollop with red hair, wearing a tattered frock coat..." Louis spat. "That girl with a tricolor ribbon in her hair."

Antoine nodded amusedly, realizing at last what his father meant. "Her? She's a friend who was only bringing me a message."

"And her name?" 

"Eponine Thenardier."

Louis shook his head. "Ah. And I expect you'll one day come up and ask for permission to marry her? Well, as early as now..."

"I'm not involved with her!" Antoine snapped.

Louis nodded sarcastically. "Or so you say!"

Antoine gritted his teeth. "She is my friend, nothing more and more importantly, nothing less. I'm not turning my back on her, and the same goes for my other friends."

"Unless you come home now to Nice..."

"I won't. I will not abandon this fight, this Republic." Antoine said firmly.

"Very well then. You have made your choice, Antoine. From here on, I have no son." Louis said coldly, storming out the door.

Antoine watched him go and only shrugged. "It will take more than that to make me." he said to himself.

Suddenly, from the next room, a door slammed. This was followed by the sound of running footsteps and the suppressed laughter of at least three people, one of them a girl.

Antoine mumbled something angrily as he went to the door. "I know you're all out there, so it's no use hiding!" he called into the passage.

"_Merde!_ My bootlace!" Eponine's voice muttered from the staircase. 

"Never mind already!" Courfeyrac replied furtively. "Hurry up Jehan!"

Antoine arrived at the top of the stairs, and now had a full view of three of his friends standing on the landing. Courfeyrac was almost doubled over with laughter. Jehan and Eponine were laughing as well, but Eponine seemed to have tears in her eyes.

"And what interest have you in my affairs?" Antoine asked them.

Courfeyrac straightened up. "Well, we were wondering if we could help in any way."

"It's far too late for that," Antoine said. "But thank you for your concern."

"Little do you really know," Eponine said in an undertone.

"Eponine, why are you crying?" Jehan asked her.

Eponine wiped at her eyes. "Oh nothing. Nothing concerning anyone, really," she murmured, glancing at Antoine.


	55. Fragments Scattered and Pieced Together

**Fragments Scattered and Pieced Together**

"All set?" Joly asked Combeferre, clapping his shoulder.

"I'll handle it from here. You had better get some rest and stay away from Courfeyrac and Bahorel, unless you want to have a hangover at your wedding." Combeferre said. They, along with Tholomyes, were standing in the cafe on the Rue de Lamarque. It had been a day since the incident on the steps of the Palais de Justice.

Joly turned red. "I'll remember that. Hope I don't get ill between now and tomorrow! I feel a cold coming..."

"All the more you should stay home, though I'd recommend some brandy in the bargain," Tholomyes called after the hypochondriac as the cafe door shut. However, after this, he slumped into a chair.

"I think it was a mistake to ask to meet them," he said quietly.

"You have to talk to her. She is your daughter after all." Combeferre said firmly.

"That's easy for you to say, Combeferre. You've never fathered and then abandoned a child."

The young doctor simply glanced at Tholomyes compassionately. "Should I send word to the Pontmercys and tell them not to come anymore?" he asked.

Tholomyes bit his lip and sighed. "What can I tell her? She wouldn't remember me. She was a baby when I left Paris."

"Have a little faith, Tholomyes," Combeferre said reassuringly.  
_meanwhile_

Eponine walked along the street, farther away from the post office. "I wonder how long till Papa gets my letter..." she wondered aloud as she walked faster. It was cold, but she wore her coat unbuttoned. Her bootlaces dangled as she broke into a run, as if fleeing from some unknown entity.

It was only a matter of time till she stumbled and fell right into the mud. Eponine shrieked as she attempted to get to her feet, but only succeeded in slipping back in the mire. At her second attempt, a carriage passed by, splashing even more water and slush all over her drenched clothes and into her hair.

"I am such a wretch," she murmured as she tried to get some of the mud out of her eyes. She yelped as she put weight on her right foot. Pain was beginning to radiate from her ankle and towards her shin and her heel.

"_Mon Dieu_, what am I going to do now?" she whimpered, trying to stop the tears from coming to her eyes. She tried not to cry out with each step as she hobbled towards the street corner, hoping to hail a fiacre.

Eponine could almost hear the mutters of the people she passed, and she felt like withering under their looks of disgust. _"People don't know, people never care!_" she mused, hoping to ignore the agony that walking was putting on her. Everything seemed to swim around her as she searched for a familiar face. Once, she thought she saw Montparnasse walking with a well-dressed young lady. Another time, she almost called out to a lancer with his regiment. Several times, she thought she saw her sister or her other friends passing by.

She collapsed at last on the sidewalk of the Rue de Lamarque, finding herself unable to walk any further. Tearfully, she looked up at the now gray sky. "Snows fall and cover everything..." she said dreamily. "Wonder how I look in white, really..."

"Are you talking to someone?" someone asked from behind her. 

Eponine buried her face in her skirt. "Enjolras...don't look at me. Not like this. Please?"

"Whatever have you been through?" Enjolras asked, concern evident in his voice. He tried to help her to her feet, but Eponine cried out and nearly fell back down to the ground again.

"I can't stand...it hurts too much," Eponine said shakily, grabbing onto Enjolras' arm for support. "I fell down..."

Enjolras bit his lip. "Combeferre is supposed to be here now. So you'll be in good hands," he said, scooping up the injured girl.

Eponine managed a smile as she brushed her hair out of her face. She was almost giddy; whether it was the pain, or the feeling of being so close to Enjolras, she did not know.

"I'm sorry to get all your clothes dirty. But what brings you here? I thought you had that case?" she asked, eager to make some conversation. 

Enjolras looked at her grimly. "The sentencing was today. It will be life imprisonment for all of them."

"How awful!"

"It's better than the guillotine." 

"I posted that letter to my father before I fell." 

"You didn't have to do that, Eponine."

Eponine grinned at him. "I have to. Who else will look after Azelma, Gavroche, Neville and Jacques...and..." she said before trailing off. She shook her head, but the smile didn't leave her face. "Oh it doesn't matter, but I just don't want to leave Paris. Are you staying? I heard your father asking you to go home to Nice." 

"Paris is where I live, but France is my home." Enjolras said.

By this time, they were at the cafe. Enjolras pushed the door open with his shoulder and set Eponine down in a chair. "Wait here," he said to her.

"Enjolras, Eponine, what happened?" Tholomyes asked, coming up to them with Combeferre.

"A little accident," Eponine said sheepishly.

"Her ankle might be sprained." Enjolras said as Combeferre bent down to take a look at Eponine's injury. 

"It is. And she's been walking on it, so this will take some time to heal." Combeferre said. "I'll go look for something to bind it up."

Eponine was about to protest before Enjolras gave her a knowing look. "I may not be a doctor, but I know when Combeferre and Joly are right about these things," the young lawyer said as Combeferre disappeared into the cafe's back room.

Tholomyes looked out the window at some people about to enter. "And here they are," he said wistfully.

Marius opened the door of the cafe to let Cosette and Jean Valjean enter before him. "Tholomyes, it's good to see you," the baron greeted.

"And you too, Baron Pontmercy," Tholomyes said cordially.

Marius cleared his throat and turned to his companions. "Cosette, I've already introduced Tholomyes to you before," he began. He then turned to Valjean. "But Father, I'd like you to meet Tholomyes. Tholomyes, meet Jean Valjean, my father-in-law, who raised Cosette during her years here in Paris." 

Tholomyes shook Valjean's hand. "Citizen, thank you for taking care of my daughter. I am so happy that you have helped her become the lady that she is."

Valjean only smiled. "No, thank you for Cosette. She is an angel who saved me. I thank God every day for letting me still be able to speak to her." 

Cosette sat down and smiled at Tholomyes. "I'm happy you're here in Paris. Are you feeling better now?"

"Much better, Madame...Cosette..." Tholomyes said awkwardly.

"Tell me about my mother."

Tholomyes nodded. "She was beautiful, kind, and I think also very brave to have gone on so long. There was not a single bit of guile in her; she was honest and innocent. Ah, Cosette, she was not meant for this world." 

Cosette nodded. "Like I saw her in my dreams." 

Valjean stepped closer. "She was a saint. Remember that, Cosette. Her measure of sadness was as great as your measure of happiness now is."

"Ah, Father!" Cosette exclaimed. "If only she were here!"

Marius exchanged a look with Tholomyes. "She is," the older lawyer mouthed.

Enjolras and Eponine watched this entire interlude in silence, each of them apparently contemplating what they'd lost in the past few days. Their hands met tentatively, unseen by the rest of the people in the room.

"Will you be fine?" Enjolras asked her.

Eponine smiled contentedly, squeezing his hand gently. "Oh yes. Finally."


	56. Dealing With Pylades and Electra

**Orestes Finds Some Difficulty Dealing with Pylades and Electra**

"One, no...it must have been around two or three, though it feels like four..."

"Enjolras, if you're trying to count how many glasses of wine you had last night, you can be assured that you did not get past five."

Enjolras rubbed a wet washcloth over his face and blinked at Combeferre, who was busy writing some clinical notes. "You know I do not normally drink. But it was Joly and Musichetta's wedding after all, and you know how these things tend to go, especially when Grantaire and Courfeyrac are around," Enjolras said.

"You need to live the life of the world more often, _mon ami_," Combeferre said as he put down his pen and picked up his coat.

"Where are you going? You don't normally go to the hospital till about nine," Enjolras asked as he smoothed down his waistcoat.

"Just to 28, to see how Eponine is doing with that ankle of hers." Combeferre replied, giving Enjolras a knowing look. "What a sight you two were the other day. Is it me, or are you always the one getting her out of her scrapes?"

Enjolras shrugged as he pulled on his coat then followed Combeferre out the door. In a few minutes, they were knocking on the door of the Thenardiers' flat. 

Gavroche opened the door with a saucy look on his face. "Here to see the ladies? Where's Jehan?" he asked.

"Gavroche!" Eponine and Azelma exclaimed reprovingly. The young boy muttered something as he let the two gentlemen in.

Jacques and Neville immediately ran up to Enjolras and Combeferre. "Look how big Noir has gotten," Neville said, holding up a cat, the same kitten that Eponine had found a month before, only now a good deal bigger.

"Ponine said if we were good at school today, we'd go to the park!" Jacques reported with a grin on his face. 

"Eponine..." Combeferre began sternly, turning to the young woman seated nearby with her feet propped up on a crate. 

Eponine only smiled; in other circumstances, this would have been a display of sweet innocence, but now it was of a quiet sort of defiance.

Azelma, who was finishing her breakfast, sighed and shook her head. "She's being silly again. Eponine, last night, you couldn't dance, or walk about without me helping you a bit. You can't go to work today, not alone! Or at least don't walk going there and coming home."

Eponine scowled at her sister. "My ankle feels better. Look, it isn't so huge anymore. I can walk slowly, but you need not worry so much. Enjolras, Combeferre, don't look at me that way. I went with you all to the reception last night didn't I?" she said, gesturing to her bandaged right foot. 

Combeferre rolled his eyes. "Between the two of you, I do not know who is more stubborn," he remarked to Enjolras. 

"Eponine, do be a little sensible." Enjolras said. He stepped aside to prevent Noir from sinking some claws into his trousers.

Eponine giggled as Noir jumped up into her lap. "I don't think he likes you," she said, scratching the cat behind its ears.

Enjolras looked at the cat disdainfully. "It's free to think what it likes."

"And so am I," Eponine said.

"Eponine, if you're going out, you're going in a fiacre, and with someone with you," Enjolras said sternly. "We're...I'm not about to allow you to endanger yourself needlessly."

Eponine nodded, as if she suddenly caught the slight nuance in her friend's speech. "For you then. Just for you," she said.

Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door. "Come in!" Azelma shouted.

Much to everyone's surprise, Feuilly. Grantaire and Bossuet stood in the doorway. "Ah, the office isn't open yet. Still a'cleaning!" Gavroche greeted.

"Aurelia said you'd gone out," Feuilly explained. "So we decided to see if you were here." 

"Aurelia? As in Citizenness de Vaux?" Combeferre asked.

"The one and only. Feuilly, if I didn't know any better..." Grantaire began with a lopsided smile.

"Grantaire, just tell them what you did." Bossuet said, trying to hide the amusement in his voice.

"Did what?" Grantaire asked.

"Yesterday before going to Joly and Musichetta's wedding." Feuilly said.

"Why, what was so important about that terrible sunset?" Azelma asked.

Enjolras looked at all of them thoughtfully. "Besides that occasion, yesterday was also the last day for filing for candidacy in the elections," he said quietly.

"We know." Grantaire said. "Enjolras, you always did say that the people needed representatives."

Enjolras looked at him confusedly till realization dawned on him. "Grantaire...you didn't just file for _your_ candidacy, did you?"

"No! You think that I, who you consider so mean and low, would dare to set foot in that sacred realm of office?" Grantaire asked. "Ah, if Zeus be fickle and impartial, and a traitor even, well then Apollo was despite everything, the light."

"I don't understand." Eponine said.

"What's this all about the gods?" Azelma asked.

"What he means to say is that he filed for _Enjolras'_ candidacy to be elected to the representative body!" Bossuet said impatiently.

Enjolras stared at Grantaire for a long while. "This is some kind of joke, I expect?" he said slowly, not masking his disbelief. 

Grantaire shook his head. "I believe in you. We all do." 

"If you'll excuse me..." Enjolras said to Eponine before striding out of the flat. Everyone was in silence as they listened to his footsteps on the stair, and then to the sound of the tenement door slamming shut.

"Is he going to rectify it?" Bossuet asked.

"Or confirm it? He's still got today to make up his mind. The campaign begins next week..." Feuilly added.

"At any rate, we'd better find out," Combeferre said, peering out the window briefly. Before he could turn, he heard the door of the flat being shut again.

"Combeferre, I think your patient has gone..." Grantaire began, glancing at the people remaining in the room. He was cut short however when the doctor half-dragged him out of the room

"Eponine! Now where is she getting to?" Azelma yelled, running out after Combeferre and Grantaire.

"More than one reason then," Feuilly sighed, exchanging a look with Bossuet. He glanced at the Thenardier boys, who had watched this entire scene with amusement. "Best you'd come along. School is starting soon."


	57. Of The Good One Might Do

**Of the Good One Might Do**

"I'd rather that Grantaire filed for his own candidacy instead of mine," Enjolras said as he crossed the street. Though he was in a hurry to get to the assembly hall at the Rue de Lamarque, he did not hail a fiacre.

He crossed his arms as he stopped to let a cart pass in front of him. "When I get that paper pulled out, I'm going back just to make sure that Grantaire gets his due for this. He's gone too far this time," he muttered darkly. His mind whirled with all kinds of horrible ideas to get back at Grantaire for his underhandedness, ranging from simple blackmail all the way to causing very minor physical injury to the drunkard.

_"And then again, Combeferre and Feuilly won't forgive you if you get back at Grantaire nastily. I don't like Congresses or things that smack of it, but they are sometimes necessary,"_ he reminded himself.

"Citizen! Oh some help, please..." a voice called croakily from a ramshackle building nearby. Enjolras saw a scrawny old man seated on the steps of the dilapidated structure. The ragpicker's shoulders shook as he coughed and shivered under a tattered rag that he'd been using as a cloak.

Enjolras swallowed hard as he went up to the old man. "What do you need?" he asked.

"A coat. A doctor. A day."

The young man took off his coat and handed it to the old man. "I haven't a sou to give you, but I can ask a doctor to come and see you."

The old man smiled, and as he did this, his cracked lips bled. "Oh really? Well, no one has been able to help, not yet."

"Today, it will be different," Enjolras said, turning to go. He debated between continuing on to the Rue del Lamarque, or turning back to go home and find Combeferre.

"Too bad that Joly and Musichetta are away; their flat isn't so far off," he said as he rubbed his hands for warmth.

A sudden burst of laughter from behind him nearly caused his hair to stand on end. Enjolras turned around and saw a scene that piqued his still relentless curiosity. 

Eponine was standing a few paces away, leaning on to a lamp post for support as she conversed with an older man. This man was sallow under his greatcoat, and ostentiously adorned with a feathered hat.

"You little slut! I ask one thing from you, when I sheltered you all those years, and you turn away? You ungrateful wretch!" the man hissed at her.

Eponine shook her head. "Why won't you stay in Paris anymore, Papa?"

Thenardier spat and glared at her. He suddenly turned and caught sight of Enjolras. His expression softened into a simpering smile. "Bonjour, Citizen! You received my letter, I hope?"

"I did," Enjolras replied.

Thenardier nodded. "Well then?" 

"There are papers waiting for you at the Rue del Lamarque," Enjolras said. "I had them written up after I received your note. If you wish to avail of them, you can stop there any time you wish."

Thenardier surveyed him critically. "And Eponine? Are there papers for her too?"

Eponine bit her lip. "No. I told him not to have any done for me." 

"Insolent girl!"

"It's the truth," Enjolras said coldly, getting between the two.

Thenardier's face fell. "Very well then. Citizen Enjolras," he glowered, walking off down the street.

Once Thenardier was gone, Enjolras caught Eponine's gaze. "And what reason have you for following me out here?" he asked.

Eponine readjusted her hat. "I wanted to make sure you'd be fine...that you wouldn't be so angry...so now where are you going?"

Enjolras looked her in her face. "So what do you think? You think that I should accept? That I can better help people if I help them with their laws..."

Eponine smiled and reached for his hand. "Your hands are warmer than mine," she grinned.

"Eponine, I need to know."

"Why do you ask me? You know I think well of you...I don't know why you do these things, but I am glad you do all the same..."

"It was for people like you that we had to fight for."

"I know, and we won't forget that."

"There they are!" Grantaire called. Enjolras and Eponine turned to see him and Combeferre hurrying up the street.

"So, _mon ami_, what have you decided on?" Combeferre asked breathlessly.

"I have barely any time to think it over," Enjolras said. "And I do not know if I am adequate for the task."

"Are you afraid of the good you might do? The people have risen, but they need guides, some persons to help them lest we fall over into anarchy again," Combeferre pointed out. "I know I've told you so many times in the past not to be so dogmatic, but you're a little less like Robespierre than you think, Enjolras."

Enjolras smiled. "Thank you."

"Well then, let's hurry on!" Grantaire said.

Enjolras tapped Combeferre's shoulder. "There's an old man not far away, in that building there. He needs a doctor. I said I'd find one for him." 

Combeferre smiled, as if some long-treasured thought of his had been affirmed. "See what I meant? I'll see him right now." he said, hailing a fiacre. "The rest of you go on. Eponine can't run the rest of the way there."

Eponine turned scarlet. "You're really letting me come along?" she asked Enjolras. 

"You do think for yourself after all," Enjolras said, helping her into the carriage. He got in beside her, followed by Grantaire.

"Rue del Lamarque, Citizen?" the driver asked merrily.

"Yes, and quickly!" Grantaire replied.

A crowd was already outside the assembly hall when they arrived. "He's here!" a young boy cried as the fiacre drew up.

"Citizen Enjolras, are you accepting the nomination?" another voice chimed in.

"What better for one of the Republic's heroes! The fighter for freedom!" a third called.

"Vive liberte, Vive Egalite, Vive Fraternite, Vive le France!" more voices cheered.

"You heard them." Grantaire said, gently pushing Enjolras over to a desk where there were forms piled up.

Enjolras searched for his name on the list and picked up a pen. "_For once, I don't feel like I'm signing my death warrant,"_ he thought with a smile as he dipped the pen in an inkwell.


	58. A Slip of the Tongue

**A Slip of the Tongue**

"Why did you do that? You could have just lived the rest of your life without telling a soul who you really were."

Jean Valjean did not even flinch at this query. Ever since the whole truth about his past and Cosette had come out, most of Marius' friends and acquaintances were either dumbstruck with astonishment, or driven to more questioning.

Bossuet was one of this second group. "If I were in your place, I do not know what I would have done," he said, shaking his head. He looked around the throng they stood at the fringes of. He'd met Valjean just outside a church, and had managed to make conversation all the way till they met the crowd in the street.

"Most people would have kept silent," Bossuet added diffidently.

The old man only smiled. "It was not easy, but I had to do it."Any man can overcome the darkness, difficult as it is, for the sake of something that may seem of value to no one, but is worth more than pearls."

"And why?"

Jean Valjean glanced upwards. "He watches over all, and He is good. What else can one do before such magnificence?"

"He does have a sense of humor," Bossuet remarked before slipping back into the middle of the crowd of political supporters, campaigners, newspapermen, and hangers-on. The former law student shoved and excused his way throught the crush towards the Palais de Justice.

By the time he was in the clear, his coat was disheveled, his hat gone, and his shoes full of mud. "Bother all this campaigning. I don't envy Enjolras at all. Or any of the other candidates," he said to himself.

"I see you're looking for our now hassled leader?" Bahorel asked jokingly as he came from around the corner. "Thankfully, I just saw him leave the Palais de Justice. Said he had to fix some papers there."

"So you wouldn't go in yourself?" Bossuet asked.

"You know what I say about the law profession," Bahorel shrugged. "There's a good crowd over down near the Barriere Du Maine..."

Bossuet shook his head. "Enjolras always was good at revenge. Except where Combeferre, Marius, Courfeyrac, and Eponine are concerned." 

Bahorel laughed as they continued walking. "That is, I guess, because Combeferre philosophizes against it, Marius is just a boy, Courfeyrac is even better at revenge, and because Enjolras is too much of a gentleman to get back at Eponine for everything she's done to him?"

"You're right about everything except the last,"

"Oh, has it gotten to that point? Perhaps we should ask him."

The two friends continued conversing about inconsequential things all the way to the Barriere Du Maine. They were a good way off when they ran into the first signs of the crowd moving towards the artisans' lodge.

"More than one candidate, most likely," Bahorel commented.

Bossuet craned his neck. "Joly and Musichetta are here!"

"So soon?"

"It's been nearly two weeks, after all. Hey Patrice! Chetta!"

The newlyweds standing hand in hand quickly turned towards Bossuet. "Oh thank goodness you're still alive, Bossuet, what with that cold that has been getting about!" Joly greeted. "And Enjolras is here too, good to see he's still on his feet, like the rest."

"Have you heard the news?" Bahorel asked.

Musichetta frowned. "Enjolras running for office, or the conclusion to that entire mess with the diplomats?"

"Both," Bossuet replied.

"The first is likely to be good, the second, I'm not sure," Joly said, wiping at his spectacles. "How's Feuilly been since then?" 

"The same as usual, only that he grumbles a little bit more." Bahorel said. "And hasn't made a proper fan in three days."

"Oh no!" Musichetta exclaimed. 

"Enjolras was fixing some of the papers on that case. Courfeyrac and Marius had to help out; it was such a mess, even with the commuted sentences," Bossuet added in a whisper.

Suddenly, another person slipped into the throng. "You're back!" Eponine greeted raspily, wrapping a scarf tighter around her throat. 

"Nice to see you again, Eponine. How have you been?" Joly asked.

"Busy, now that I do not have to worry about anyone bothering my sister or my brothers. Papa is not coming by, nor are any of our old associates, Azelma has Jehan, the boys have school," Eponine replied with a grin.

"You sound ill." Bahorel remarked. "Too much of the law, I see?" 

Eponine shrugged. "Just helping out. Running errands, making sure that Enjolras and Combeferre are fine. They've been so busy. Oh, I've been buying my bread by halves. Some white for the rest, black for me. It's good to have an extra franc in hand. Look, I walked all this way, and my feet didn't hurt. So I should be fine." 

"There you are, Eponine. We've looked all over for you!" Courfeyrac and Grantaire said as they came around the corner. 

Eponine nodded to them. "I'll see you all later," she said, disappearing with them into the lodge.

"What's that all about?" Bossuet asked as they went to follow them. "Surely the speeches haven't started yet."

"Not at all. You're actually early for a change in fact," Enjolras said, emerging from within a huddle of people he'd been discussing with.

Bossuet colored slightly. "We have to be, what with all the people here."

Bahorel winked at Enjolras. "Looking for a certain lady?"

"What?" the younger man asked.

"Oh you know," Bahorel said. "But what we don't know is why of all people, you choose Eponine for a mistress."

Enjolras' eyes narrowed. "Eponine is not my mistress, and she never will be. She only stays when she wants to, not for any reason between us."

"So she's only a friend?" Musichetta asked.

"Yes, since that is all I can see her as, now especially."

"How about as your wife-to-be?" Bahorel joked. Enjolras only gave him a look of disgust as he went to the lodge.

The place was full, with barely any elbow room. All the tables and chairs had already been cleared out. _"A commotion could turn this place into a death trap,"_ Enjolras thought as he went towards the platform erected in the front of the room. Other candidates, among them the younger Bamatabois, conversed with their supporters, or heckled each other.

"Enjolras. Congratulations on your nomination," Tholomyes greeted from a corner.

Enjolras nodded uneasily. "It was rather unlooked for, but I am willing to go far to help the people." 

Tholomyes clapped his shoulder. "_Bonne chance_. I go back to Toulouse tomorrow to tell them tidings of this glorious change."

Enjolras smiled, amused at this alliteration. "The Republic thanks you for the service you have done. Perhaps in the future, our paths will cross again?"

"For certainty, they will," Tholomyes said.

Enjolras quickly walked back to his place near the platform as the master-of-ceremonies, a relative of Lamarque, began a long introduction. Just as he was about to fall asleep, someone tugged on his coatsleeve.

"Eponine?" he asked, looking at the person seated next to him.

The girl smiled warmly. "You're tired. Tonight, you shouldn't work so hard."

"I do what I must," Enjolras said, suppressing a yawn. "I thought you'd be with Courfeyrac,"

"We finished our business with the registrations," Eponine said. "And I put my name on the list too!"

Enjolras nodded as he fished in the pocket of his coat. To his surprise, he came up with a five-franc piece. "That wasn't here when I arrived." 

"Some angel." Eponine remarked.

Enjolras looked towards the stage. "I'm to speak soon."

Eponine's eyes brightened. "I have to go, but I'll tell you one thing." 

"Which is?" Enjolras asked.

Eponine kissed his cheek lightly. "_Je t'aime,"_

"What?" Enjolras asked, getting up as his name was called.

"You heard me," Eponine mouthed before slipping out in the direction of the lodge door.


	59. Different Under the Glare of Day

**Different Under the Glare of Day**

"'Doubt not Truth to be a liar...' will that suffice?"

"I don't think quoting Shakespeare will work, Grantaire."

"How about 'She walks in beauty...'"

"Try writing your own poetry for a change." Feuilly said boredly, looking up at his friend as they sat on the curb of the market street the next morning.

Grantaire threw down his pen. "It's not as if your own attempts have sweetened Citizeness de Vaux's tongue!"

Feuilly scowled as he returned to painting fans. "It was a paltry attempt, rough in the offering. And anyway, she consented to edit it. That washerwoman is an artist in her own right."

Grantaire sighed. "Where's Jehan when you need a verse written?" 

Feuilly chuckled. "Love feeds poetry. I am sure your own verses can do some work on the heart of that mistress of yours." 

Grantaire picked up the pen again and began scrawling across the paper, muttering as he did so. Feuilly began to whistle while he worked, till he became aware of someone walking in their direction. 

"Ah, bonjour, Enjolras!" Grantaire greeted the newcomer.

Enjolras motioned for Grantaire and Feuilly to be quiet. "I'd appreciate being able to buy my breakfast without people following me about," he said in an undertone.

Feuilly nodded knowingly. "But after last night, is there any reason for them not to want to see you or come to support you?"

"It depends on what they think. The other candidates were also convincing. That Bamatabois has honey for a tongue," Enjolras replied.

"So does Eponine." Feuilly said. "I saw what happened before she left."

Enjolras fought to keep from grimacing at the memory of that interlude. "Just you?" he asked.

"And Grantaire. And Combeferre, Courfeyrac, or in short, all of us sitting not far away. That lancer fellow, the one who was courting Eponine last year, was also there. His name is Theodule Gillenormand, isn't it?" Feuilly said, blowing on a spot of paint to dry it.

"That lout is only here for the elections, no doubt." Enjolras said.

"That is rather strong language, Enjolras," Grantaire remarked.

Feuilly rolled his eyes. "Well then, he did not exactly see you and Eponine talking, but he saw her leaving. That is all there is to it. You think he'll ever go to visit her?"

"_Mon ami_, he doesn't even know her address," Enjolras said as he adjusted the buckle on his shoe.

Grantaire and Feuilly snorted. "What did Eponine say to you anyway?" Grantaire asked eagerly. "What was there to be said even with that kiss?"

Enjolras glared at him. "That is for me to know."

"Ah, an admission then?"

"Grantaire..." 

"Enjolras, you're turning...a little pale?" Feuilly asked.

"Guilty as charged." Grantaire sniggered. 

"Now why the sudden interest in Eponine's or for that matter, my personal affairs?" Enjolras demanded icily.

Feuilly shrugged. "You'd know better than any of us would." 

Enjolras nodded curtly before going down the street towards the marketplace proper. Feuilly and Grantaire exchanged knowing looks.

"He's going to hurt her. I'm afraid he will, very soon. And it will be worse than what that lancer did," Feuilly said.

Grantaire raised his hand as if making a toast. "To roses in marble," he said wryly.  
_"Surely she couldn't have meant what she told me..."_ Enjolras thought as he hurried on his way to buy some bread. _"When she has other things to be concerned about, how could she have time for love on her own terms?"_

He slipped into the queue for the baker's, wondering all the while how long he would remain incognito. _"If I can't stay unnoticed, Combeferre is going to have to help me out."_ he mused disdainfully. Somehow, he was beginning to long for the perilous anonymity of his student days. 

_"But with all that needs to be done, who cares about one soul, troubled as he or she might be?"_ Enjolras reminded himself.

Someone brushed right by him, and he looked up to see a familiar person walking by, searching for the end of the line. "I'd recognize that hair anywhere," Enjolras said to himself. "Even if it is wet."

He grimaced as he watched the young woman find her place in the line. In the light of day, he could see every rent in her coat, the wan look on her face as if she'd been up the entire night, her missing teeth, and most painfully, her broken hand. "_In another lifetime, I might have thought of her as nothing more than a wretched working girl who I might have trifled with and cast aside."_ he realized. 

However, he remembered the words he had said to his father. _My friend, and more importantly, nothing less..."_

When he finally left the bakery, he had two loaves with him. He handed one to Eponine as he passed by her.

She turned to him with a look of surprise. "Are you quite sure?" she asked incredulously. "You are little better off than I am!"

"You always do things even when I don't ask you to. It's the least I could do," Enjolras replied firmly. "All the time you've missed at work...I can't have you doing that, Eponine. It is not fair to you,"

"I do earn my own bread, you know," Eponine said, half-pushing the loaf back towards him. "And I'm trying to be respectable, really. Doing my own work. Washing my own hair," she added in a lower tone.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow, catching the inflection in her voice. "No matter what you do, you always will be respectable," he said. "You'd better bring that back to your siblings, then go to your job." 

Eponine smiled as she put the loaf in her satchel. "Oh, you are too kind, Antoine. So much...why I like you better as you are now."

"Busy, sleepless and sometimes out of sous?" 

"Sometimes. Then that gives me some way to help you. Or when you speak that way to me."

Enjolras nodded politely, trying to hide his discomfort. "Till we meet again then, Eponine," he said before turning to go.

"Can I walk with you?" Eponine asked.

Enjolras stopped, apparently only remembering then that they were neighbors. "Very well then," he conceded with a smile


	60. Done Up and Unraveled

**Done Up and Unraveled**

As the campaign season reached a fever pitch, Enjolras found that he was working more closely with his friends and acquaintances, but seeing them much less often. He was busy with explaining his platform, and traveling as well. His friends helped out best as they could, but most of them still were based in Paris because of their own personal affairs. They all communicated by notes or through each other whenever they chanced to meet.

Face to face conversations among Les Amis and their circle of associates went mostly along this line:

"Bonjour, mon ami!"

"And you too. Where are you going?"

"Have you got any messages for me?"

If the answer was a 'no', the parties concerned would say goodbye or ask to meet again some other time. Otherwise, they would chat for a while, but not for long. Time was too short to mince any words.  
Events transpired in this fashion on the Rue des Filles du Calvaire.

Marius had done his best to distance Cosette and Valjean from the frenzy of this series of events. "Cosette shouldn't be upset in her condition, and my father deserves a little peace," he explained when Courfeyrac had asked. Cosette expressed her trust in Marius' judgment of the matter, while Valjean had thanked Marius for his concern towards Cosette.

Mlle Gillenormand could not care any less about politics, and so she spent more time in the church than anywhere else. Firstly, to get away from Marius and all his 'horrid Republican friends'. Secondly, to get away from her father, who was beginning to take a marked interest in politics, for Marius' sake. He'd totally thrown off some of his old ways: he hated Magnon for her deception, had once let slip Basque's given name, and once shouted "Vive le Republique!" upon hearing of a good turn in the campaigns.

"You see, the royalty is falling out of the favor. It has become rather rusted amid all this gaiety," Luc-Esprit Gillenormand had said to his astounded acquaintances. He now spent his time discussing politics in his living room, commenting on Marius' cases, and doting on Cosette.

"You're doing well to keep Cosette out of this. Imagine having a child born with ideas! You'd have more problems than I did with you," old Gillenormand said to Marius one morning after breakfast. It was February 14, a week before the elections.

"Now that booby of a cousin of yours, Theodule, is back in the city. Have you spoken to him yet?"

"Indeed I have not," Marius said. "But my friends have, from what I hear." 

"He's upstairs now, nursing a split lip," Gillenormand said with a laugh. "It has something to do with that little girl Dernard..."

"Thenardier. The older or the younger?" Marius asked.

"The one with black hair," Gillenormand said. "I thought he fancied the other one."

Marius winced. "I'd better see what's happened then," he said, going up to the guest room.

Theodule Gillenormand sat near a washbasin, scowling as he dabbed at his wound with a wet cloth. His uniform was disheveled, and his hair had streaks of mud in it.

"There you are, Marius," the lancer greeted his cousin. "Are all of your lady friends really that much spoken for?"

Marius crossed his arms. "What does Eponine's younger sister have to do with this?"

Theodule laughed. "An honest mistake. I saw her not far from here, apparently waiting for someone. So I went to talk to her for a bit." 

"Exactly what did you say?"

"I asked what a pretty girl like her was doing all alone. She replied that she'd just been to talk to her sister, and then we had a conversation that _I_ was enjoying. Then she shouted to this rather terribly dressed young man who was coming out of the bookshop,"

Marius laughed. "Jean Prouvaire?"

"Is that his name? Well, he wasn't alone," Theodule said. "He had a friend, that same fellow who tried to knock me down all those months ago." 

"Which one?"

"I'm talking of the dark-haired one with a short beard and rash waistcoats."

Now Marius cringed. "I'm sure that was Bahorel. I don't think I need to ask what happened next?"

Theodule shrugged. "That girl Azelma is persuasive. Got that bohemian to stop yelling at me, and that boxer to stop trying to hit me. She's not as pretty as her older sister though."

Marius rolled his eyes. "Some things never change."  
Eponine bit back a curse as she pulled her coat loose from the wood splinter that had snagged it. "I'm darning this old thing every other week now!" she muttered as she examined the newest tear in her clothes. It was noon, and she'd gone home from the bookshop to run some errands. 

She hated having to part with the comfortable garment that had become a bit like a second skin to her in the past few months. "Well, some things pass, as Enjolras would tell me if he saw this," she said whimsically as she balanced the pile of wrinkled and dirty clothes she was holding. "Should I still get this coat washed? Should I get a new one?" she asked aloud as she walked over to the washerwoman's place.

As Eponine approached the dingy apartment, she caught sight of Aurelia de Vaux standing beside her washing trough, but talking to Feuilly. "Bonjour," Eponine greeted shyly, putting down the dirty clothes.

Aurelia turned quickly towards Eponine. "What do you want?" the older woman snapped.

Eponine showed her the clothes. "Can't wash these myself."

"You never will be able to," Aurelia said. "Not with that hand of yours. Pay up now. I'll give these to you tomorrow evening."

Eponine fished in her pockets for a single franc, which she handed to Aurelia. "There, will that do?"

"Where are you going after this, Eponine?" Feuilly asked.

Eponine sighed. "Back to work. It is such a bother, when I could be out enjoying myself, or walking with Enjolras. Oh, and where is he? I haven't seen him in days!"

Feuilly and Aurelia exchanged a despairing look. "He's upstairs." Aurelia said. "And this time, Gilles said that if he so much moved out of his room, he would have Combeferre come personally to lock him in."

"Oh, is he ill?"

"No, just tired. He came back into town today," Feuilly said.

"Can I see him?"

"If he's not asleep. He was almost that on his feet," Aurelia said. 

Eponine smiled as she ran up the stairs to Enjolras' flat. To her surprise, the door was actually ajar. Still, she made sure to knock.

"Who's there?" Enjolras asked.

"It's just me," Eponine said, peering in. "It's good to see you." 

"I was on my way out, Eponine," Enjolras said, rubbing his eyes. Judging by his still tousled hair, and his more refreshed manner, he'd just woken up.

"Don't!" 

"And why not?"

Eponine sat down in a chair and drew him down to sit beside her. She gently ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. "Haven't you heard anything I've ever said?" she asked him pleadingly.

"I've always considered your opinion to be weighty," Enjolras said, moving her hand away from his face.

"Enjolras, I was not lying when I said what I said to you that night at the Barriere Du Maine!" Eponine blurted out.

Enjolras stared at her, rather disconcerted at hearing her words. In the past few weeks, they'd avoided speaking of that evening, unless it was about the political discussions that had transpired. "What of it?" he managed to say.

Eponine only held his hand tighter. "And you don't believe me?"

Enjolras did not say anything, but he continued to look at her, as if trying to make sense of everything that had happened between them. Nothing was the same any more; when the change had begun, even he could not tell.

"I need to know." Eponine said after a while. "Before everything changes once again."

"Why?" Enjolras asked. "I will admit, we're both busier than ever, and we do not see each other as often as we used to, but my regard for you is little changed from as it was before. As for your part, only you can give a good accounting of that."

Eponine smiled bitterly. "If you win, you'll always be out there. And I won't get to see you at all. You might talk to Combeferre and the rest, but not for long, not when you have so many to look after! How you do it all is so very strange!"

Enjolras nodded "I do believe you," he said, kissing her hand. "Actually, you never are a good liar, Eponine. Even your father knows that." 

"No worse than you are," Eponine laughed. "Tonight, if you want, we can go to the Musain with the others, and have a good time of it!"

"Whatever for?"

"That's what people do to celebrate,"

"And to celebrate...today is the 14th?"

"And so?" 

"In my case...there is nothing to celebrate." 

Eponine stamped her foot impatiently. "Why must you always, always be so serious? I don't care what Feuilly says, but you're going out walking tonight with me, Courfeyrac and whoever he's with, and if Azelma is okay, with her and Jehan!" she declared. 

"And why?" Enjolras asked quizzically.

"The elections, the day, and you being back in Paris. I'll see you later!" Eponine said, kissing his cheek lightly and then running out the door.

Enjolras stared after her in shock. "I did not just agree to that, did I?" he asked himself as he finished readying for the day.

When he got outside, both Feuilly and Aurelia were laughing. "You're really no Don Juan, at least where she's concerned," Feuilly said.

"Stop it, both of you. It's not that funny," Enjolras scowled.

Aurelia calmed down. "You're in love. Just look at you!"

Enjolras ignored her and continued walking down the street. But anyone who saw him would have noticed that he was deep in thought.


	61. Knotty Candlelight and Dear Ladies

**Knotty Candlelight and Dear Ladies**

_Outside the Musain_

The stars were only beginning to show in the deep blue sky, and the lanterns were being lit in the streets of Paris, yet the city was beginning to come alive. The Rue de Gres was quite a beehive of activity, allowing for some five young people to arrive at the Musain incognito.

"Funny, Courfeyrac, I thought you'd be out with a grisette by this time," Azelma chimed in.

"My dear Azelma..." Courfeyrac began.

"Oh spare her the details. He just lost another bet with Bahorel," Eponine interrupted.

"How about 'a disagreement with monetary exchange'?" Jehan asked.

Enjolras shook his head. "Not very well said, I'm afraid."

They managed to find a table in the Musain, which was now full of people from all walks of life, talking and laughing among themselves. "A far cry from what we remember..." Jehan said as he helped Azelma into a chair. "Can you believe it was more than six months ago that we were all planning here?"

"It feels like another lifetime," Enjolras replied. "Then, hope seemed a little dim."

"Oh imagine how it was for me and Azelma," Eponine said. "But it is a different world, isn't it?" 

"Reincarnation without dying," Jehan muttered. 

Courfeyrac waved to Louison. "Some wine, please?" 

"Oh s-surely you'd want some food with t-that," the dishwasher stammered.

Just then, the cafe door banged open. "Damien, this is a rather busy place..." the timid voice of a young woman floated over the din.

"Therese, _cherie_, there is always someplace to sit. And if not, there's always the backroom. Perhaps some of the others will be there..." a gruff but merry voice replied. "Oh, they're out here in the front room..."

Azelma and Jehan exchanged surprised looks. "Bahorel?" the poet asked, turning towards his roommate. 

"Why, who were you expecting, Jehan?" Bahorel asked. "Aphrodite herself? Though I think I have a Grace who is sweeter," he added, wrapping a muscular arm around the slender waist of the young woman who stood next to him.

Enjolras blanched at this little joke. "Is she the same lady who helped you get out of prison all those weeks ago?" he asked as he regained his composure.

"Lady? I say angel. Therese, here are the friends I mentioned to you before: Jehan, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Eponine, and Azelma. _Mes amis_, meet Citizeness Therese Dufour," Bahorel said by way of introduction.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you at last," Therese said delicately. She was a pale young woman who appeared almost translucent and ready to blow away with the next gust. Her hair was done up rather severely in a bun, but her large eyes were full of unspoken humor and grace. 

"Dufour...no relation to that Inspector Dufour?" Courfeyrac asked.

"He's my uncle," Therese said with a smile as she took a seat next to Bahorel.

"Ay, there's something interesting..." Eponine said uneasily. 

Azelma held up a hand. "So it's Marius and Cosette...Joly and Musichetta...Feuilly and Aurelia...Combeferre and Claudine...Bossuet and Claire...Jehan and me...Bahorel and Therese...Courfeyrac, don't you have someone? Grantaire is impossible, as even the shoemakers say. And Enjolras, you and my sister..."

"Neither confirmed nor denied?" Courfeyrac laughed, breaking off as a pair of woman's arms clasped his around the shoulders.

"I knew I'd find you here, Maurice!" a grisette crooned. She wore her hair down, and was dressed in a lacy sort of blue dress.

"Ah, Paulette," Courfeyrac said, kissing the grisette's hand. "I thought you'd be away this evening?"

"Nonsense, Maurice. I was waiting for you," Paulette giggled. "But since I know you go here often, my--"

Enjolras cleared his throat, obviously embarassed. "Courfeyrac, maybe you and your lady friend would like to be more discreet..."

Courfeyrac nodded to Paulette, who sat down right next to him. "Very well then, if you must always be so proper," Paulette said primly. 

"My is this table getting crowded, and dinner hasn't arrived yet..." Eponine said, squeezing in closer to Enjolras' seat.

Enjolras looked at her with a polite smile. "Is that a good or bad thing?"

Eponine cocked her head. "Both."

Paulette leaned in. "So...you're all here with your lady friends?"

"Well, yes, but perhaps in one case..." Courfeyrac replied.

Paulette shrugged. "I know I've seen you somewhere," she said to Eponine.

"Ah, where?" the younger girl asked. 

"Out with him?" Paulette replied, gesturing to Enjolras. "So many of us in our quartier are jealous!" 

"Jealous? What, and why?" Eponine asked, lowering her voice.

Paulette rolled her eyes. "You know..." 

Just then, Louison arrived, bearing a tureen of soup. "Dinner is c-coming," she said, setting down the soup.

"About time," Bahorel muttered.

"For which we are about to receive..." Jehan muttered just before the cafe door swung open. 

Enjolras looked at the newcomer. "Grantaire?" 

Grantaire grinned at him. "Good evening, _mes amis_," 

"Ah, have you already..." Courfeyrac asked. 

Grantaire nodded. "She's accepted."

Enjolras' eyes narrowed. "Now what's happened that I don't know about?" 

Eponine giggled and ran her hands through his hair. "Antoine, while you were away, making all those speeches, Grantaire's been up to something..."

"Which is?" Enjolras asked warily. Eponine whispered the answer in his ear, and drew back to see the young man's expression.

"This is a joke." Enjolras said, turning to his friend.

"Oh no! I do not joke about love, or politics..." Grantaire said.

"I was underneath the contrary impression," Enjolras pointed out. 

Courfeyrac sighed. "He's hopeless. You'd better explain from the beginning, Grantaire..."

Grantaire sat down and picked up Enjolras' glass of wine. "It's an epic indeed, of my lady in violet, of poems..."

"Just tell us already!" Azelma said impatiently.

Grantaire cleared his throat. "The real reason why I was so drunk the morning of June 5..."


	62. News From Below

**News From Below** "...that week, Citizeness Montrose and I were in a debacle. If Woman is a Hydra, Nicholine is the head immortal. You know how it was that week, mes amis, with all the things that had to be done, and me losing the money I was to buy her a present with..." 

_"Never mind Grantaire, we don't need to hear the particulars of your quarrel..."_

".Silence, Courfeyrac!..at any rate, she wasn't speaking to me, not even after the barricades..."

_"How harsh!"_

"...So it was on that day, remember when I went to talk to some of the men before that Assembly in July...early in July, it was a Saturday, I warrant. I had to speak with her, and once again she rebuffed me. She shoved me out her door, giving me my absinthe for poor company."

_"And that explains your presence drinking in a rather questionable location when I came upon you?"_

_"Enjolras! I was there too, remember?"_

_"That I know all too well, Eponine."_

_"Should Capital R still continue his story or will we take pleasure in listening to both of you?"_

"Many thanks, Bahorel! So I wrote to her repeatedly...figures and sketches, my friends. Scribes, scribes!"

_"Accounting for the increase in the prices of paper?"_

_"That is not funny, Citizeness Vigny...I mean, Paulette."_

_"Well, paper has become more expensive...never mind that, mes amis. _

"...She did not reply too often, claiming one thing for another. Fickle fraility! She did send me a note at Christmas. A note full of her own poetry."

_"And I thought that no woman ever would."_

_"Well, if a revolution could succeed, so can Grantaire's attempt at chivalry...ouch!"_

"Well, when I returned here after the New Year, it was to her straightaway that I went. Cleopatra could not have done better with Caesar and Antony!"

_"Mes amis, it's almost ten in the evening, and Grantaire still has yet to wrap up this narrative."_

_"Ahh...Jehan, are you actually writing this all down?"_

_"And why not, Azelma, cher coeur?"_

"Since Enjolras seems so bent on hearing the end of it, let us say that Homer could not give a better conclusion. I asked her today for her hand, and yes, she accepted."  
Eight pairs of eyes were still riveted on the drunkard as he drained his nth glass of wine. "_Mon Dieu_, you were not jesting!" Courfeyrac said, shaking his head.

"It was quite romantic at some points...when it wasn't sordid." Therese Dufour said with a shudder.

"Well, it was a story worth two bottles of wine." Bahorel commented, gesturing to the bottles and glasses lined up on the table. "Actually, we'd be on our third if either Enjolras or Eponine took more to drink."

Enjolras crossed his arms. "That being out of the question. Now, since tomorrow will have much in store, we had better go."

"Why, it's barely ten in the evening!" Azelma protested.

"Oh don't be silly. We still have much to do in the morning. It must be hard to fall asleep over a cooking pot. Sewing books though makes my eyes so, so heavy." Eponine said more amiably.

"All the more reason to get you all home." Enjolras said.

"Good night, mes amis. Good night sweet ladies, good night." Bahorel called, escorting Therese out the door. The Thenardier girls, Jehan, and Enjolras followed suit, leaving Courfeyrac, Paulette, and Grantaire to continue conversing in the cafe.

"That was quite an evening." Jehan grinned as they walked down the street. 

"Or monologue." Enjolras said. "Who would have thought that someone would actually take that winecask seriously?" 

"To think we used to dismiss it as the products of his mind when on absinthe," Jehan said with a delicate chuckle. "To dream of the romance, of the moon and the stars is one thing, and what labor is there in making it come to fruition?"

"At least she seems to know how to laugh," Eponine observed. "Laughing is easy when you're rich, and eating cake and wearing satin and laces. I don't know how she does it. Oh you ask Marius about the time he gave me a five franc piece. How I wanted to jump! How I told him of the things it would get...two days of the jug, beefsteak with all the fixings..."

"Now I'm hungry again," Azelma said. "You remember Mamma's cooking at the inn, when we used to have big loaves of bread, huge sides of meat..." 

"Simple joys in castles on clouds..." Jehan said as they turned a corner into the Rue del Lamarque. This was their shortcut going back to their quartier, "a convenient sort of bridge and Republican avenue", as Bossuet had referred to it. 

"There's Citizen Enjolras!" a voice called as their little group passed under a streetlamp.

"Good evening to you," Enjolras greeted the gamin in their path. It was Navet. 

"People are all talking about you! You're the one who they say will win to represent Paris in the legis..legislature!" Navet said brightly. "Shall I go in and tell everyone at the campaign hall?"

Before Enjolras could reply, people had begun to stream out of the assembly building. House windows were being opened wide, a usual sign of some political meeting about to be staged.

"Campaigning in the streets, whyever not?" an old man cackled.

"Yes, Citizen Enjolras, you were being looked for! Your tour in the south went well, so everyone says..." another voice chimed in.

"When did you learn this?" Enjolras asked the haranguers.

"Not two minutes ago,"

"Speeches! Everyone's here, so we can hear again what you all have to say before we cast our votes!" 

"I don't think we'll be going home for some time," Eponine said to Azelma in an undertone. "See that old gent in a topper? He's running too! Then there's that young Bamatabois, and then Fremont from Bordeaux, and one of Lamarque's nephews...oh they'll all be talking! Trying to get all these people to say yes on the papers next week."

"Ponine, it's getting late! We really have to go!" Azelma said.

"Tell Jehan to bring you home."

"But he always stays, you know." 

"Then run on by yourself. I'm staying here." 

Azelma's brow furrowed. "You're worse than when you were in love with the Baron Marius Pontmercy!"

"Leave me alone, Zelma," Eponine said hotly, turning to go further in the crowd. As she walked, she suddenly felt someone tug on her coat. 

"Citizenness Thenardier!" one of the speakers, young Bamatabois, said.

"What of me?" Eponine asked.

The dandy gave her a rolled up pamphlet. "Take a look at this, then give it to Enjolras to pass to the rest. About the Charter."

"Oh..." Eponine said. She could barely make out the words, but it dawned on her what was meant by _Malade Liberte_, which was printed on the book's cover. 

"What's this?" Enjolras asked, looking over at them.

"You won't like it." Eponine said grimly, handing it to him.

"Counterrevolution. What a timely occasion," young Bamatabois said. "When we are supposed to be concentrating on the right of suffrage..."

"Rather, the election could either confirm or destroy all that has just happened." Enjolras said grimly.

"What do you mean?" Eponine asked.

"It will depend on what the people decide. An idea is a dangerous thing, and yet it is the uplifting of the human race..." Enjolras said. "The people have risen for a Republic though. So surely they will not be so quick to abandon it?"


	63. Mycenae Under Siege

**Mycenae Under Siege**

The rest of the campaign in Paris, Aix, Marseilles, Toulouse, and other large cities was turning into a raging storm. While country folk, villagers, and peasants could be content with dabbling, the city people were already wading. It was impossible at times for anybody to step out in the street without coming across some debate, harangue, or gathering.

The day after, February 15, was a rather horrible day for anybody with a printing press in Paris.

It had all begun at eight in the morning in M. Ravigard's bookshop, when a man in a cloak identified as a Royalist, had entered asking for more of the _Malade Liberte_ to be printed. Eponine promptly intercepted the manuscript and placed it in a water bucket iput back In outrage, the stranger strode out, which was an invitation for the 'Republicans' outside the door to come in with more pamphlets to be reproduced.

By ten in the morning, it was a race as to which side was going to get what printed first. By three in the afternoon, it was a question of distribution and dissemination. All the candidates, regardless of factions, were forced to stay up till two the next morning to address the crowds that had come out to listen to their positions on each piece of propaganda.

But if for anything, it was a profitable day for the printing industry.

A day before the elections, scuffles began to break out. The infamous Inspector Dufour spent the night hauling in brawlers.

On the day of the election, February 21, 1833, it began to rain in Paris at five in the morning. It wasn't just the ordinary rain; rather, it was coming down in sheets that seemed to want to double the Seine's breadth.

"You'd better bring at least a hat with you, Enjolras," Combeferre said that morning as he readied to leave for the day. It was already seven in the morning and the rain was not abating.

"Perhaps it will let up later," Enjolras said as he stirred his morning coffee. "Though I think I should cast my vote now the better to avoid any trouble for anyone." 

"The polls won't open till eight, but I have a patient at the hospital," Combeferre said with a slight smile playing on his face. "Remember that old man with consumption?" 

Enjolras nodded. "Why, how is he?"

"He can go home soon," Combeferre said. "Another week without help, he'd be dead in a ditch. You saved him."

"You're the doctor,"

"I wouldn't have known if you hadn't told me."

Enjolras shrugged. "The law and medicine are different arenas, but nonetheless vital. Now you'd better go before the mud gets too difficult to walk in."

Combeferre put on his hat. "Stay safe, Enjolras. I don't want to have you as a patient," he laughed before going out the door.

Enjolras smiled wryly as he finished his cup of coffee. 'The rain had better let up. I hate wearing a hat," he said to himself. He picked up one of his case folders, even if only to take his mind off the tension of the events happening not very far away.

After about twenty minutes, he found that he could not concentrate on his reading. Momentarily, he thought of heading out to visit the young Thenardiers or Courfeyrac, but decided against it. "Courfeyrac is probably still driving out one of his grisettes, and I do not think I want to know where Eponine, Azelma, Gavroche and the two little ones are at now."

By the end of the hour, Enjolras was seen walking to the polling center at the Rue de la Verrerie. He took his usual shortcut through the deserted Rue del Lamarque. The place had been designated as a 'neutral' area, where no campaigning or brawling was allowed on election day. This was where the votes were to be counted.

In the rain, no one really stopped to chat with him, though Enjolras was not blind to the cordial smiles and waves he received on the street. "Not much chance of running into friends today..." he said. Most of his friends were registered in other voting centers in Paris. The only ones he knew he was certain to see were Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Eponine.

He soon reached the Rue de la Verrerie. As he approached the building designated for the polls, he heard what sounded like chairs being moved along with angry shouting.

"You know the rules! There's no propaganda material allowed within fifty meters of this building!" a furious voice roared.

"I have my loyalties," said a curt voice that Enjolras recognized as that of Theodule.

"Don't hurt him!" Eponine's raspy cry cut through the din. "Theodule...whyever for? What are you doing here anyway?"

Enjolras quickly ran into the building, hoping to defuse the conflict before anyone would get hurt. However, as he flung the door of the voting room open, he found himself rooted to the ground by the sight that greeted him.

There was a whole circle of people all glaring at each other, and all kinds of pamphlets were strewn on the floor. Chairs were in disarray, clerks were hiding amid the shouting in various corners of the room. However, that wasn't what had gotten Enjolras into a speechless state. Theodule was there, kissing Eponine.


	64. Articulation Gone Useless

**Articulation Gone Useless**

_earlier_

"What are you doing here anyway?" Eponine demanded.

"Several things," Theodule said, looking her in the eye. "I didn't expect to ever see you _here_."

"You'd better tell me before you cause trouble..." Eponine began before she was silenced with Theodule's lips pressing upon hers. Before she could push him away, she heard the door open. By the time she'd put some distance between herself and the lancer, it was too late.

_"Mon Dieu, no please...don't let him be angry!"_ Eponine thought as she forced herself to meet the newcomer's cold eyes. "Enjolras!" she whispered.

"Bonjour, Eponine, Citizen Gillenormand," Enjolras said curtly. "And all of you here," he added, turning to the crowd. Everyone had gone silent and had stopped fighting. Some of the more timid onlookers pretended to be absorbed with filling out their ballots. A plucky young clerk handed a blank ballot and a pen to Enjolras.

"Enjolras, this is not what you think it is. You didn't see, how could you know?" Eponine said, reaching to grasp Enjolras' coat as he walked off to a vacant desk.

He shook her off. "It does not matter, Eponine. Leave me alone," he said sternly as he sat down. Eponine hung her head and turned to flee the room.

Enjolras deftly filled out the ballot, preferring to concentrate on the pen strokes instead of the chaos around him. However, what was becoming even more disquieting, as he got up to drop the ballot in a box, was his recollection of the events that had just transpired. 

_"Why did I talk that way to her? What right have I? Why is this even disturbing me? Months ago, I wouldn't have cared,"_ he thought as he helped right some of the chairs in the room. The place was beginning to regain some semblance of order after the tumult that had just occured.

Theodule walked up to Enjolras cautiously. The lancer had lost some of the cockiness that was usually present in his step. "I am sorry, Enjolras. I did not know what I was thinking," he said apologetically.

"Indeed you did not. Causing trouble here? Bringing in propaganda, from what I gather? All parties are forbidden from breaking the electoral code!" Enjolras said, fury rising in his voice. "What you did was a clear violation!"

Theodule looked down, obviously confused and embarrassed. "Yes, that was my undoing. And I believe the lesson has been justly served?"

Enjolras looked around. "Yes, it has. You are lucky that Eponine spoke for you." He felt a strange sort of pain in his gut when he mentioned his friend's name.

Theodule looked up at Enjolras. "You are not angry for what...happened?"

"That is your affair, and hers. It is not my part to interfere," Enjolras said, turning on his heel to leave the polling center.

It was still raining very hard when he stepped outside. Enjolras drew his hat tighter over his head and walked towards Courfeyrac's flat, which was not far off. He managed to catch his friend on the way in. 

"_Mon Dieu,_ Enjolras, what's gotten you so upset?" Courfeyrac asked concernedly. "It's either some huge reversal, or Eponine, I wager."

Enjolras smiled at him bitterly as they went to sit on the stairs. "Trouble at the polls." 

"That's why I went before it started. See, I am capable of waking up early."

"I never said you were." 

Courfeyrac laughed. "Come now, tell me what's happened?" 

Briefly, Enjolras narrated what had just transpired. "I do not know what is the matter. It is not as if we were ever involved," he finished with a sigh.

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. "Combeferre was right. You're blinder than you'd like to think."

"Excuse me?"

"The way you're acting now...all that you've done for that girl...and you still think it means nothing?"

Enjolras shrugged. "She said she loved me."

"And it does not affect you?" Courfeyrac asked.

Enjolras paused. "It did, for a while," he said slowly.

"You're jealous. Well, you're better than Marius in that aspect. He was so jealous that he didn't tell any of us Cosette's name till after the barricade," Courfeyrac grinned.

"That does not tell me how I should deal with her the next time we meet." Enjolras said. "It has become inevitable."

Courfeyrac nodded. "You have to tell her."

"Tell her what?"

"What she needs to know. I think she at least deserves to know that."   
Eponine collapsed onto the pavement, not caring if everybody could see the tears on her face. She huddled into a tight ball, seeking to shield herself from the rain as she sat there, miserable on the bridge.

"I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..." she murmured over and over as she shivered under her coat. "Antoine...I didn't mean it, it's just been only you all this time, and I hadn't thought about him for the longest time, not since that day at the opera...if only you'd listen..."

She looked out over the Seine, now slightly swollen, and certainly frigid. "Even now, it's a little like silver," she murmured, wiping her face with her sleeve. She blew her nose and tried to rearrange her now sodden hair. It was near this spot that only a few months before, she'd attempted to drown herself.

She rubbed at her mouth, determined to wipe off any trace of Theodule's rather forced kiss. "If only..." she asked aloud. "_Dieu_, what am I to do now?"

A plan, strange and wispy as it seemed to be, began to form in her mind. She got up and went back the way she came, but this time, she bypassed the polling center. "Perhaps Courfeyrac would know where he is. He knows where everyone is," she reminded herself.

She burst in the door of the tenement, eliciting a surprised shriek from the concierge. "Get out of here! You're tracking mud on the floor!" the older woman screeched.

"Eponine?" Courfeyrac greeted incredulously. "Walking in the rain again?"

But Eponine did not hear him. Her wan gaze had strayed towards Enjolras, who was sitting aghast on the stairs. "You're here..." she whispered, a smile forming on her face.

Enjolras got up and went towards her. "The things we all do sometimes, I see?" he asked mildly.

Eponine nodded. "I'm so sorry. I really am," she gasped. Whatever she'd meant to say was now dissolved in yet another round of tears. She grabbed Enjolras' hand and pressed it to her cheek. "You once said you believed me..." 

Enjolras roughly pulled Eponine close before she could fall to the floor out of exhaustion and distress. He awkwardly held her shoulders as she continued to sob into his clothes. "Eponine...don't say anything anymore. You do not need to," he said in her ear. 

Eponine could only nod as she held on to him more tightly. In the meantime, Courfeyrac stole out of the room with a relieved smile on his face.


	65. To Give News

**To Give News, It May be Better to Wait till Morning**

Several more days passed underneath a current of tense anticipation. Much of the counting was taking place in the cities, and all the results were being forwarded to Paris for verification.

"But that only gives more time for _anyone_ to meddle with the records!" Bossuet remarked crossly one afternoon over a late lunch with some friends in the now refurbished Corinth.

"Someone's got to give the bureaucrats some employment," Courfeyrac said.

Bahorel looked around, and then at his watch. "Are we waiting for anyone else?"

"Feuilly, Marius, Combeferre, and Joly are at work. Jehan is finishing up something at school," Courfeyrac said. "Grantaire is out somewhere, with that Citizeness Montrose of his."

"We're not the ones with many grisettes," Bahorel scoffed.

Courfeyrac put down his glass of wine. "Yes, yes, but to my credit, I'm not the one who's been in denial...not like Enjolras..."

"I heard that," Enjolras said matter-of-factly as he walked into the bistro. "I'm not staying long. What is all of this about?"

The trio of men seated at the table exchanged knowing looks. "News, _mon ami_," Bahorel sighed. He handed Enjolras a few letters. "They're from my family."

Enjolras' brow furrowed as he looked through the contents of the letters. "Stalemates with the counting...riots...this is not what anyone had planned on. That _Malade Liberte_ and other writings are doing some damage, and I think our own work is adding to the fire. I'd better bring this up, see what should be done," he said, biting his lip. "I may as well tell you of how affairs now stand in Nice..." 

"This is interesting," Bossuet said eagerly. 

Enjolras handed the letters back to Bahorel. "The place is divided now. My mother just wrote to me bewailing all that's happened there, asking why can't my father and I have the same opinions."

"_Mon Dieu..."_ Courfeyrac said, laughing helplessly. "I can imagine her face as she wrote that letter."

"Enjolras, have you told her about you and Eponine yet?" Bahorel asked.

Enjolras shook his head. "Maybe one day, when I'm certain that my father won't be opening her correspondence."

Bahorel grinned. "That's not very nice for anyone."

"It isn't," Enjolras said as he made ready to leave. "I'll see you three some time," he added before walking out the door.

Courfeyrac shook his head. "I have a running bet going on that he's going to stagger in his flat at three in the morning."

Bahorel scowled. "You didn't honor our last bet. You were with Paulette on the fourteenth!"

Courfeyrac picked up his wineglass and raised it. "_Mon ami_, we agreed that I wouldn't approach a woman on that day. However, she came to me." 

Bossuet could not resist chuckling on noticing his older friend's irritated expression. "Legalities," he said in a tone that could only be dripping with irony.  
_hours later_

It was almost midnight when Combeferre heard the door of his flat open wide. He got out of bed to open the bedroom door. "Enjolras, where have you been again?" he asked his friend.

"Helping calm uproar. Questioning people. Finding out more about all this counterrevolutionary mess," Enjolras said wearily, not even bothering to take off his shoes as he collapsed on a bed.

Combeferre shook his head. "Keep this up, you'll be in no condition to help run the country." 

"I'll get to sleep soon, I promise."

"By the way, you just missed seeing Eponine here. She stopped by not even half an hour ago."

"What for?"

"She said she's been down by the Rue del Lamarque. The counting results are going to be posted tomorrow."

Enjolras feebly removed his boots and tossed them across the room. "So I heard too," he muttered incoherently before shutting his eyes and falling into an uneasy slumber.

Combeferre stalked back to his own bed. "Patria is the harshest mistress indeed," he mused before falling asleep.

It seemed like only minutes till he was roused again by a knock on the door. Drowsily, he pulled on his coat as he went to see who was outside.

"Combeferre, you'd better come with me," a voice said as the doctor opened the door.

"Is it an emergency?"

"No, but Enjolras would want to know, wouldn't he? Don't wake him, I know. He's tired. I know. "

"Where are you going anyway, Eponine?"

"Rue del Lamarque. I never knew that Parnasse got a living too! He's the one who just came to my door to tell me."

Combeferre quietly stole out of the apartment, taking care to shut the door noiselessly. "It's only five in the morning," he said to the girl as they slipped out into the street.

Eponine grinned and tucked her hands in the sleeves of her coat for warmth. "Well, we'd better hurry then," she said, running towards the Rue del Lamarque, leaving Combeferre to trail after her.  
_an hour later_

"Enjolras! Wake up!"

The young lawyer groaned and pulled the blankets over his head. "Combeferre, it's probably not even eight in the morning."

"It's six thirty!" Eponine chimed in impatiently.

"My point exactly," Enjolras said, not even looking at her.

Eponine tossed a rolled up newspaper at him. "Read it, won't you?" 

Enjolras sat up and yawned. He reached over towards the broadsheet that had nearly landed on his head. "It's still warm," he observed as he unrolled it. He stared at the front page for a few moments and shook his head.

"You woke me up for this?" he asked calmly,

Combeferre and Eponine burst out laughing. "That's not what most people would say if they won a seat in the Parisian legislature!" Combeferre said mirthfully.

"What am I supposed to do then?" Enjolras asked, only looking now slightly more awake.

"Get some breakfast before the crowd comes, of course!" Eponine said, sitting on the bed. "You're dressed, so just comb your hair, and we can go out walking for a bit."

Enjolras self-consciously ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Step out for a bit and give me two minutes."

Eponine promptly quit the room, leaving Combeferre looking bemusedly at his friend. "So from here, a head of the legislature will be chosen, and then..."

"Then some of the real work could begin," Enjolras said, smoothing down his waistcoat. He managed to smile before stepping out of the room. "Things will be different." 

"Well, this is a pretty year: you had your revolution, you became a lawyer, and a leader in the Republic," Eponine replied wistfully, keeping in step with him. "Don't forget us or your health, or we'll be upset worrying about you."

Combeferre put a hand on both their shoulders. "For now, let's all just be friends together. I know that you're both worried; God knows I am too, but there is no point in hurrying up the change when it is a few hours away. Today is the last time we may be ourselves again," 

"The sun is rising,' Enjolras said, looking towards the window.

Combeferre sighed. "I never thought we'd see the day," he said to himself as he went with them out of the flat.


	66. To Admit Is to Be Vulnerable

**To Admit is to be Vulnerable **

_nine days later: March 1, 1833_

"Hand me that tricolor, won't you? I'd like to put it in my hat," Eponine insisted impatiently as she ushered her siblings along as they walked to the Rue del Lamarque.

Azelma stuck out her tongue. "You'll look ridiculous," she said, pocketing the extra tricolor rosette she had with her.

"Well, I think it's proper. Lordy, you are stubborn, Azelma," Eponine said, grabbing her sister's arm. "It won't hurt anyone, and you need not walk with me if you think I'm so silly!"

Azelma's smile soured as she handed the rosette to Eponine. "I don't think you're silly. You're in love, you're more laughable than ever..."

Eponine rolled her eyes as she tucked the small rosette in her cap. "There! That's prettier! It hides the hole it got during the voting," she grinned. "How does it look to you?"

Neville and Jacques only shrugged. Gavroche stood on tiptoe. "Not much of a difference. I'd prefer to dye a crow white," he said.

Azelma laughed. "I told you." 

"Never mind, we're already late!" Eponine said, half-dragging everyone along with her. The young Thenardiers found themselves in the rear of a crowd that filled up the entirety of the street.

"We can't get to the Assembly hall this way!" Neville groaned.

"Perhaps we can..." Gavroche said, turning to the left.

Eponine seized his jacket. "No, Vroche. We're just going to have to wait, or be proper about it. I won't have you running into houses or climbing walls just to get in there!"

Gavroche shook her off. "Since when did you try to be so nice?"

Eponine bit her lip, trying not to give any incriminating word. "Since I have to take care of all of you," she said quietly. She led her siblings along the edges of the crowd, furtively excusing her way through the throng.

At last, they reached the assembly hall. Eponine picked up Jacques, while Gavroche and Neville climbed up on boxes and stood on tiptoe. Azelma only had to crane her neck to take a look at the goings-on on a dais at the end of the hall.

The four newly elected members of the Parisian legislature, and the representatives of other nearby provinces, were taking an oath of duty to the Republic. The proceedings were presided over by an old justice, and witnessed by several important figures such as Lafayette.

"They're all down there," Eponine said with a whisper. "I'd know all our friends anywhere. There's Joly with his cane. Musichetta is here too. And well, Marius seated two rows down, and Cosette!"

"I don't see your employer, that Citizen Ravigard," a voice said from behind her.

Eponine turned and smiled on recognizing the newcomer. "Parnasse! Now what's brought you here?" 

Montparnasse nodded and took off his hat. "Crossing from Pantin to Paris."

"You mean going respectable?" Azelma asked. "What of Brujon, Babet, Guelemer, and the rest?" 

"Maybe one day," Montparnasse said gravely. 

Eponine shrugged. "Citizen Ravigard has been rather angry with me, ever since I threw that _Malade Liberte_ out." 

Montparnasse looked at her from head to toe. "I always knew you were the brave one," he said before disappearing back into the crowd.

"Poor man! He's gone and seen too much!" Azelma sighed. "I liked him once, you know, when he gave us cake during our first time here in Paris."  
Two hours later, when almost everyone had left the assembly hall, Eponine still lingered behind. "Go on ahead to lunch with Combeferre, Jehan, and the rest. We'll follow," she said to Gavroche discreetly.

Gavroche nodded knowingly. "Come on, Zelma," he said to his other sister. "And you two momes," he said, taking his brothers by their hands and leading them out of the hall. 

Eponine went over to where Enjolras was busy putting some papers in order. "Are you still coming?" she asked him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "The others are waiting." 

"I thought you'd be with them," Enjolras said, looking at her with a knowing smile.

Eponine shook her head. "Come with me a while," she begged, taking his hand.

"In a while," Enjolras said, putting the papers neatly into a folder and into a bag he had with him. He let Eponine slip her hand around his as they walked out into the noontime light.

"I wished I could have stood closer to the stage," Eponine said after a while.

"Whatever for? You had a good view as anyone else did," Enjolras said mildly.

"I wanted you to see me,"

"Ah."

Eponine stopped walking and stood in front of him. "You'll remember me, won't you? When you're away, doing so many things..." she asked. 

"Who said anything about forgetting or going away?" Enjolras retorted.

Eponine bit her lip and looked up at him. "Everyone will be looking at you. Old men, young men, children...women will be writing to you..." she murmured. "You'll be going to dances, seeing so many pretty girls. And maybe you'll find someone so lovely so that you'll be just like Marius was with Cosette...still is, actually. Or how Theodule was with all those women."

"I won't forget anyone. I won't forget you. You're my friend, you're one of the people," Enjolras said, trying to keep his tone free from any uncertainty that was beginning to well up within him. He reached out to brush a stray strand of hair away from Eponine's face.

In his hesitation, it was plain that he was trying to consider her, reconcile all the conflicting images he had of her: the tragic waif he and his friends had rescued time and again, the self-possessed working girl he'd come to respect, the scarred woman who seemed to live to feel, spurn, and be spurned in turn, and the friend who had, despite all annoyances, somehow become dear to him. But he could only see Eponine as she stood before him: sweet yet somehow afraid. Afraid of rejection, and afraid of him.

Still, Eponine caught his hand in hers. "Your hands were always so soft. And your eyes...I could never tell anyone why I love looking at your eyes..." she said with a sigh. She stood on tiptoe so that she was looking him straight in his face. 

Unexpectedly, at this moment, their lips met briefly, rough and yet sweet all at once. For an instant, Enjolras almost thought he was going to stop breathing for the sheer energy that seemed to surround them as he found himself drawing her close as she ran her fingers up into his hair. He fought to retain some semblance of control, but the sensation was too overwhelming.

"I think I've always loved you a little bit, but now, I don't know what to say," Eponine said when they pulled away after a few moments. 

At this, Enjolras stepped back almost forcefully. "No, I can't do this, Eponine. Not to you, not to me," he said to the bewildered girl. "Not with all of this happening. Not with you not knowing what you want, and I being too occupied to think of much else besides than what will do the greater good."

"I know what I want..." Eponine said, desperation entering her voice. "It's just been a good life. I have it, I think. I'm not hungry, or cold, or always afraid. But you...I don't think even God or all the angels could give me that! Not even if I love you more than Parnasse, Marius, and Theodule. Not even if I almost think I'd die if I didn't see you so happy!"

"Eponine, my life is not worth your happiness," Enjolras said, looking at her keenly. "You lived once without me."

Eponine swallowed hard. "Do you...love me even a little?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"I need to know, Antoine!"

Enjolras took her hand and kissed it gently. "There is no such thing as loving someone, or something just 'a little'. There is no such thing as half a decision or a committment," he simply said.

Eponine was about to say something to this when suddenly, Gavroche came running in their direction. "There you are! Listen, have you heard?" the boy asked, now thoroughly out of breath.

"Heard of what, Gavroche?" Enjolras asked cautiously.

"What's happened to that Citizen Marius and Citizeness What's Her Name," Gavroche said. "They were getting into their carriage with those two old gentlemen..." 

"Citizens Fauchelevent and Gilllenormand," Eponine whispered.

Gavroche shrugged. "Some big brutes came and tried to hurt them. They would have grabbed the lady if that big old man hadn't been there."

"_Mon Dieu..."_ Eponine whispered. "How are they? Was anyone hurt?"

"I don't know."

"We'd better go and see," Enjolras said, a trace of alarm creeping into his voice. He didn't mind when Eponine reached for his hand again. "Where did this happen?"

"Not far from here," Gavroche said, leading them along towards the corner. Unknown to the three of them, there were shadows in the alleys, even in the broad daylight.


	67. Justita, Patria, and the Bourgeois

**Justita, Patria, and the Bourgeois**

It was about nine in the evening when a certain group of friends descended upon the Cafe Musain, as if trying to find some breathing room amid the tumult of the day. The tricolor ribbons and cockades on their clothes showed that they'd just escaped the inaguration dinner.

"It was a good thing that no one was hurt in that attack," Musichetta observed as she put down her glass of wine and reached for Joly's hand. "How are they all?"

"Citizenness Pontmercy was shaken up. Her father, or rather, Jean Valjean, was more concerned for himself than for his head wound. Marius was furious at the bandits," Combeferre replied. He and Joly had attended to the family upon hearing of the ambuscade on them.

"So what will happen next?" Grantaire slurred. "Suspects were caught. Guiltier than all the conspirators who followed Cassius' bidding!" 

Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Bossuet shared a grim look. "It's another debate on capital punishment." Enjolras said at last. He paused, now being aware of the warning look that Eponine was giving him. "Justice should be done, but must it end in death? In here, the surgeon's scalpel is kinder than the gavel of the law."

"Which was why I took up medicine. Is civilization so hard to follow after revolution?" Combeferre asked wryly.

"The new charter signs for a right to life, but there are laws that still hold." Feuilly said. "Enjolras, you're now in the legislature. You could move for the rule to be repealed."

"Hopefully at least the majority of the legislature will follow suit." Enjolras said, swiirling the dregs of the wine in his half-full glass. "Marius said that he knew at least one of the men?" he asked Eponine. "He said he saw him at an ambuscade in Gorbeau House."

Eponine nodded. "Yes. His name is Babet..."

"He was with Patron-Minette. Papa knew him," Azelma said. The younger Thenardier girl glanced over to her three brothers playing some game of theirs in a corner. "Gavroche too."

"Lost his family, we hear," Courfeyrac added.

"How?" Bossuet wondered. "What reasons?"

"Love. Winter. Death. Life." Eponine said, ticking these off on her fingers as she spoke. "As many misfortunes as the hundred and twenty stitches on my coat. See, I'll need about thirty more tonight to finish patching it!"

"Can't you get a new one?" Bahorel asked.

Eponine grimaced and pulled at a thread along the newest rip in her sleeve. "Larton brutal breaks my teeth. You know, if I went down to Pantin again, tried things like I used to, I'd get one in a day."

"The road to perdition is wide, and to the light narrow and steep." Jehan said, shaking his head. "Would that the world were reversed."

"The North Star would fall to the earth first," Joly pointed out. 

Eponine idly toyed with the ends of her hair, humming softly to herself as if she was thinking. She looked at Enjolras, and then smiled. "Antoine?" she asked, putting a hand on his arm. 

Enjolras tried not to wince on hearing his given name. "What?" he asked, turning to meet her gaze.

"What will you do for yourself now that you're elected?"

"What do you mean?"

"You used to teach and do a little lawyering, so now what?"

"I'll get paid just a little."

Eponine smiled wryly. "We're both going to be patching our shoes if we stay honest, I see? I know you'll do what's right...you always have. And me? You'll be furious if I went back to the streets."

"I can take care of myself well enough," Enjolras said. "And you needn't keep slipping francs in my coat, Eponine. I'd prefer to keep the bread in your flat rather than mine."

Bahorel grinned at them. "Communal accounting."

"Now don't you start---" Enjolras began.

Just then, Jacques tugged on Eponine's sleeve. "My marbles rolled outside," he said plantively.

"Argue it out among yourselves," Eponine laughed as she followed her brother outside. In the darkness, it was difficult to see where the one dozen little glass balls had rolled to. Eponine got down on her hands and knees, carefully examining every clod of mud she could find.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Thenardier!!" a voice greeted.

Eponine looked up at Luc-Esprit Gillenormand. "What are you doing here? And alone?"

Gillenormand chuckled merrily. "Enjoying the lights of Selene. It's good you and that young Enjolras came to see Marius and Cosette. Things have been a confusion since then."

"I'd do a good deal for a friend," Eponine said, picking up a marble.

Gillenormand smiled. "They're all inside the cafe? I used to go there in my youth."

"_Oui_. Well then?"

"It's no good for a girl like you to be talking politics. Why don't you marry? You're a young girl; a house and hearth should be yours, not the bookshop, the law, and campaigning!"

"I haven't the money, or the man," Eponine said, pocketing yet another marble.

"The money is easy. I'll rap that rogue Ravigard if he does not give it."

"No one wants me." 

"I know the cause of your felicity," Gillenormand grinned. "Marius and Cosette, those two sly lovebirds, have tried to hide it. But I have my ways of knowing. A saloon is never idle. I know it's not that buffoon Theodule. It's that young Antoine D'Aubain Enjolras, I'm sure. He's a fine bourgeois, despite being the lawyer, Jacobin, and statesman!"

Eponine straightened up. "Sir, how do you know his full name?"

Gillenormand winked. "I once courted his mother."

"_Non!"_

"She's in Paris right now."

Eponine nodded and turned to go back into the Musain. She quickly sat down beside Enjolras. "Marius' grandfather is outside, with news," she said , looking at him keenly.

Gillenormand entered in shortly after. "Good evening, fair ladies, young gentlemen!" 

"Good evening, Citizen," Enjolras said calmly. "What news?"

"Your mother is coming here." 

"How?"

"I saw her conversing with friends, and I told her that Marius mentioned you went to the Musain a great deal," Gillenormand said.

Enjolras tried to muster a protest or a way of gently berating the nonagenarian when a petite elderly lady swept into the Musain. Her shawl was a fine cashmere, she wore a lace cap, and her dark hair was lined with silver.

"There you are, Monsieur Gillenormand" she greeted the old man. She turned to the group of young people at the table. "Antoine! Out here so late?"

Enjolras smiled amiably "Good evening, _ma mere_."

Monique D'Aubain Enjolras looked at her son adoringly. "I couldn't believe it when your father said you were running for the legislature. I already told you what happened in Nice. I came to congratulate you, _petit._"

Enjolras turned red slightly, causing some of his friends to laugh. _"Merci"_. 

Monique smiled and glanced towards Eponine. "This is her?"

"What?!" Enjolras asked.

"Mademoiselle Eponine Thenardier,"

Eponine grimaced. "That's my name."

Courfeyrac gallantly pulled up a chair. "I think, Madame, you'd like a seat."

"Thank you," Monique said. "Maurice de Courfeyrac, isn't it?"

"Just Courfeyrac,"

Monique ignored him. "Now you'd better tell me everything from the beginning, all of you. I always enjoyed a good story."

As if in response to this, Louison emerged with the coffee. "It will be a l-long night," she said with a knowing look. "Of a di-different sort, that is,"


	68. Adders in Ink

**Adders in Ink**

Unfortunately for Enjolras, with all the time he'd spent being absorbed with politics and the Republic, he had forgotten one main thing about his bourgeoisie origins: his parents and their circle were unusually fond of gossip, merriment, and occasionally, matchmaking.

On the fourth morning after that long night in the Cafe Musain, Enjolras had to join his friends Courfeyrac, Jehan, and Marius for breakfast at the Rue des Filles du Calvaire. Cosette prevailed upon Eponine to join them as well. This development was one that Enjolras hardly minded. However, the sight of his mother talking to Luc-Esprit Gillenormand in the parlor was almost enough to make him almost regret the meeting.

_"I don't mind my father being contrary in politics, but my mother's interference is another matter altogether," _he thought through gritted teeth as he tried to ignore the conversation between the two elderly bourgeoisie playing whist in the living room while he and his friends talked over different matters. Valjean sat in a corner, reading the morning paper while listening in to everything and yet nothing,

Across the room, Monique burst out laughing. "There! That's another for me. Now what were you saying about young de Courfeyrac?"

Gillenormand grinned. "Nicolette tells me that he's been seen with a pretty grisette. One after another."

Monique shook her head. "When will you become a proper sober one, young man?" she asked Courfeyrac. "You're an attorney already, aren't you?"

"Not so long that the court dress has grown on me entirely," Courfeyrac replied, trying too hard not to look embarrassed.

Monique clucked her tongue. "Now the sober one is your grandson. Was he always like that, or is that the result of the caprices of his wife's condition?"

"Mother!" Enjolras said rebukingly, mortified at the woman's brashness.

"Why, I was your father's bane when I was carrying you," Monique pointed out. "Antoine, you are _quite _serious,"

Cosette only smiled gently as a result of this exchange . "Marius is still very kind to me, despite my occasional troubles. He's always been." 

"You speak too highly of me, Cosette," Marius said, abashed at this show of endearment.

"What are you blushing for, Marius?" Gillenormand asked. "Be happy that she dotes on you! Ah, you all, especially you, Enjolras, and you too, Eponine, you're all so grave. Courfeyrac, you have your adventures, that is all well and good. Prouvaire, you're a poet and that is good. Marius and Cosette, you are delightful, but what of your two other friends? You've forgotten flowers, poems, the little delights of courting, the laces and promises of love Your youth is being wasted on this country! Enjolras, you're advancing too fast. Heed your mother's words, you rogue. Learn to love, marvel in affection. You have a young, charming girl at your side. Good heavens, I don't understand you at all; when you should be walking with her at the Luxembourg gardens, when you should be writing her sonnets, you do all that lawyering and crusading and statesmanship. And you fight on the barricade to make yourself go severe. You're twenty-six and still a bachelor; what good is there in that? What is errantry without the Muses, what is chivalry without courtly love? Eponine, I know I've foisted those two boys to Magnon, and consequently to you; so you need not be Jeanne d' Arc. We can do without Daphne; what this country needs is Psyche, Alcyone, and dare I say, even Penelope."

Enjolras only kept silent throughout this discourse, hand over his lips in an attitude of far-off contemplation. In contrast, Eponine had dissolved into a fit of giggles, shaking her head and hiding her reddened face with her left hand.

Valjean bit his lip at the sight of Eponine's scarred palm. "There will come a time for such things," he said, more to himself than to the group.

"What do you have to say to this?" Monique asked Valjean. "You're a saint. So these boys and the young lady say, and your opinion might be able to sway my son."

Valjean only smiled. "I've only known two people in my life who could be truly called saints, Madame."

Jehan looked up from the verses he'd been scrawling all this while. "Eponine, could I ask something?" he said.

Eponine nodded. "Do tell me what it is."

Jehan swallowed hard. "Since you're Azelma's nearest relative here in France, may I have your permission to have her hand in marriage?"

Eponine blinked at him. "Marry my sister?"

Jehan looked down. "If she'll have me. I'll ask her only after I've gotten your permission to do so. And after I've asked my parents of course." 

Eponine bit her lip. "Jehan _mon ami_, Azelma is still very young. You can wait a time...a year would be good for you to get things in order," she said at last.

Jehan looked back up at her. "I don't mean to marry her immediately, Eponine. I'll wait a year, ten more if that is what it will take..."

Courfeyrac chuckled. "Till the stars go out, just to finish your verse." 

Jehan turned scarlet. "And why not?"

Eponine smiled wryly. "Well then, a year only, and nothing more. When that is done, you can see her at the church for your wedding. My best wishes to you both."

_"Merci beaucoup!_ Jehan said, now joyous to the point of being fidgety.

Gillenormand gave Monique a knowing look. "Well, what are they waiting for?" the nonagenarian asked.

Marius cleared his throat. "Grandfather, Father, Cosette, Madame Enjolras, we have things to attend to at the Rue del Lamarque."

"Go off then, young men." Monique said. "And where do you go next, Eponine?" 

Eponine stood up. "To work, Madame. Thank you for the breakfast, Cosette. I'll see you all later," she said. She ran out the door quickly before any one of her friends say anything to this.

"She'll see you later?" Monique inquired of her son.

Enjolras nodded calmly. "We manage it."

Noontime of that day found Enjolras seated on the step of one of the offices along the Rue del Lamarque, meticulously writing out a long resolution.

Bossuet came upon him just as he was crossing out a badly written sentence. "Grammar or content?" the older man asked.

Enjolras looked up at his friend. "How to properly word a resolution so that it sounds elegant and yet understandable by the people?"

"You intend on posting that?" Bossuet asked.

"Or sending it to the newspaper for their knowledge. It has to be elegant enough for the legislature's members. If I finish writing this soon, I'll be able to present this to the body in two days to vote on." Enjolras replied. "And the voting will be witnessed by all who care to observe." 

"Athens." Bossuet said wistfully. "What is that resolution about?"

"Capital punishment. We are to have it abolished altogether," Enjolras said. "Yes, I am aware that I did execute a man at the barricade. I haven't forgotten the evil of that act, and I'd rather that no one followed in my footsteps. To deny the freedom of a life, that is the most despicable crime to a people!"

A sudden shout from up the boulevard caught their attention. "Come back here, you hooligan what's your name!" Inspector Dufour roared, pursuing two men, one dressed as a dandy, the other dressed in rags. The inspector upset a few stalls and nearly knocked down a few passersby in his hot chase.

Enjolras stood up, recognizing one of the men as Montparnasse. The other, he guessed to be a member of Patron-Minette. "Hold it there! What is this all about?" he asked loudly.

At the sound of Enjolras' call, Montparnasse froze, while Babet continued running. However, Dufour had managed to collar him after a few steps. "Catching a convict," the out-of-breath inspector huffed. "And his accomplice here."

"I'm just helping out a friend," Montparnasse scowled.

"That's what you say!" Dufour said.

"Friend, comrade, partner-in-crime, it is all the same here." Bossuet remarked.

Babet tried to get out of Dufour's grip. "I still have things to _maquiller_."

"Where were you bringing him?" Enjolras asked.

"Palais de Justice." Babet scowled. "You'd have me walk to the gallows, boy?" 

Enjolras managed a smile. "No."

"Good day, Citizens," a newcomer greeted. It was Bamatabois the younger, who'd also been elected to the legislature. This dandy of thirty-two, more liberal than his namesake, was also holding papers, distributed between three folders.

"Now what has happened?" Enjolras asked him mildly.

"Look at these public records," Bamatabois said, opening the first folder. "You know that I'm preparing the city's first accounting for the convention, and I have just received these files from the clerks."

"What of it?" Montparnasse chimed in, obviously perplexed.

Enjolras scrutinized the columns of numbers, statements and figures. "They don't add up. Are you saying that there was a mistake?"

"It's in all the folders. They add up to different things. I smell a rat," Bamatabois said. "See, note that odd expense in the fifth row. Surely, eighty school chairs cannot cost that much."

"Pah, if I was to buy chairs for someone, I'd keep some sous at least for my pocket lining," Babet said.

"Precisely his point." Enjolras frowned.

Dufour laughed. "The offices do that all the time. It's like the sunrise and sunset. A few francs lost, yes, that is a part of it. Lavish gifts do help things along, actually," 

"Not anymore!" Bossuet retorted. He waved to some people coming up the street. "Courfeyrac, ahoy!"

Courfeyrac arrived, with Eponine, Bahorel, and Gavroche trailing behind. "A confusion about, I see?" the younger lawyer asked.

Bahorel sniffed the air. "The law is making things---" he began before Courfeyrac elbowed him.

Enjolras glanced at Gavroche. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

Gavroche shook his head. "My schoolmaster has gone missing. Gone to call, you know! Not on you, Babet or Montparnasse, and certainly not on you, Inspector!"

"And you know who too has gone away? Citizen Ravigard!" Eponine said. 

Bossuet, Bamatabois, Montparnasse and Enjolras exchanged confused looks. "That is strange. Didn't he leave the shop keys with you?" Montparnasse observed.

Eponine shrugged. "The shop was locked when I got there. No word of coming or going. I don't know where he lives, or I would have gone to ask. I don't know if he'd be happy to see me, since we've been fighting politics lately. I've spent the better part of the day sewing; look at where the needle has pricked me!" she said, holding up her hands dotted with little reddish marks.

"Not the first disappearance in three days," Dufour said gravely, twisting Babet's collar. "Come, we'd better go."

Montparnasse glared at Dufour as the latter dragged Babet off. "I'd give him ten francs that in another street, Babet will be away again," he muttered.

Eponine sighed. "Patron-Minette was always hard to catch till the revolution,"

Bamatabois waved his folders around impatiently. "I'd like to get to the bottom of this, but I'd like to know which offices to begin in."

"I could help you with that," Courfeyrac said enthusiastically. "You will need someone to go about to talk to people. Ask where those projects came from."

"Yes, I could use that assistance. We'll have to start right away." Bamatabois nodded.

"I'll stay here and finish the resolution," Enjolras said. "Actually, Bossuet, you could give this paper a simple turn of phrase or two, that is unless you have a previous engagement?"

"To add to my oration for Blondeau: I did not need his class to be of service to this Republic," Bossuet said, finding a place to sit on the step while Bamatabois and Courfeyrac went into the office. "Actually, to make matters simpler, if Eponine can read it, then it will do." 

Eponine shook her head. "I'd better go, people are starting to look. You gentlemen to be seen with a woman like me, that would cause some talk."

"I don't see why you worry. It was never a secret, wasn't it?" Bahorel said.

"Never mind it. Eponine, Bossuet is right. We write this resolution not be confined and covered with dusty reverence in the Palais de Justice, but to be a part of the laws under the Charter, a part of the people's rule," Enjolras pointed out.

Gavroche turned up his nose. "Are you staying here?" he asked Bahorel.

Bahorel shook his head. "I'm going off to visit Feuilly. It might be an adventure." He then stepped back into the street. "So are you coming Gavroche?"

Gavroche turned to Eponine. "See you later, _ma soeur,_" he said mischievously.

"Be careful!" Eponine called after him as he darted off the road after Bahorel. She smoothed down her skirt and found her own seat. "Well then?" she asked the two men left behind.

Enjolras sat between her and Bossuet and blew on the still-drying ink on the paper. "Here's to the afternoon," he said, picking up his pen. 

"And to the new law," Bossuet said. "There, you might want to add, _"under the Third Section of Article Three of the Citizen's Charter of the Second Republic.."_ Or should we follow Shakespeare's lead for 'more matter, less art'?" 

Eponine sighed and rested her cheek on Enjolras' shoulder. "I know nothing of what Bossuet means with that man Shakespeare," she said. "I've heard him and Jehan speak of that man...he wrote plays, didn't he?"

"Eponine, I can't write like this," Enjolras said to her.

Eponine moved a little so that she was still sitting close to him. "Can I read the play where that pretty line came from?"

"I don't have a copy of the plays, but Jehan and Feuilly may have some for sure." Enjolras said. "You still have books on loan, I hear?"

"Some of yours, some of Combeferre's, and one of Cosette's," Eponine replied. "You all give me much to think about. It was never possible before on the streets, you know, but I'm thankful for it, really. Now I understand," she said with a smile.

Enjolras nodded. "Here it is too for the new world," he said, putting his pen to the paper.


	69. Paris Meets Pantin

**Paris Meets Pantin**

For the next four days, Enjolras barely slept as he worked to finish the draft of the resolution, and then present it to the legislative body. As one of the youngest men to be elected to such high office, he felt a good deal of pressure from everyone to keep up with the more seasoned politicians and demagogues. He took to staying out late at the Rue del Lamarque or the Palais de Justice. 

Meanwhile, whispers were starting in the streets of people scurrying in and out of the border of France and Austria. In Metz, a search had been carried out, and a whole house was found filled with counterrevolutionary propaganda. In Calais, someone had been heard running about with tales of the English fleet sailing towards France. Thankfully, the latter news had only been a hoax.

However, the panic had not died down so easily by the 10th of March. So the sight of several men gathering in the area of Notre Dame with white cockades in their hats was enough to cause a stir. The hubbub only grew as the men began surrepitiously giving out pamphlets and posting papers 'in the name of the King'.

A gamin had run up to them first. "Citizens, what are you about?" he'd asked. 

"Defending the King. Down with the legislature. Down with the Republic," one of them had said.

"King? Where have you been?" the impetuous youngster asked.

"Here. However, we have to defend France from the rabble."

"Rabble?" a sharp voice had asked. It was none other than young Bamatabois, who'd been posting the results of his investigation with the results. 

An elderly man wearing a long white coat tore down the paper Bamatabois had just nailed to a tree. "This is dangerous, and will only cause unrest!"

Bamatabois stood his ground and doffed his hat. "It won't unless someone has something to hide! The records are the property of the people. Unless you have something to hide?"

"Insolent boy!" one of the other counterrevolutionaries spat. He yelled as the gamin pulled at his coattails.

Bamatabois defiantly picked up the torn poster and nailed it fast to the tree. He proceeded to do so with another copy and a nearby post, but soon the group in white was upon him, trying to confiscate his hammer.

"_Au secours!"_ the gamin yelled, waving around his skinny arms.

"Leave him alone!" another voice said, jumping into the fray. A whole bunch of dandies, joined by two working men and one elderly porter quickly came between Bamatabois and the counterrevolutionaries.

"It's ruffians like you and the insurgents who are making France a disgrace!" the youngest and scrawniest of the white-garbed men hissed. "Traitors!"

"Oppressors!" a woman said. At this, a sort of argument broke out, followed by oaths and blows. Instantly, a whole throng of people endeavored to separate the two camps. Among them were Courfeyrac, Bossuet, and some of their other friends.

"Ow, you brutes!" Aurelia de Vaux shrieked when she got a blow to her face. The man who struck her promptly received a punch in the gut from Bahorel.

"That will teach you not to hit a lady!" Bossuet said hotly before going to defend another passerby from being hit on the head with a cane. Courfeyrac was trying to rescue some students before being hit himself with a cudgel.

Elsewhere, Feuilly had rescued Bamatabois from being beaten into the ground. "Are you alright?" the fanmaker asked.

"Let me at those bastards! It's one thing to hit a man for property, but for opinions!" the legislator snarled. He tore away from Feuilly's grip and rejoined the free for all on the street.

"Someone do something!" Azelma shrieked as she grabbed Jehan's arm. "Jehan, they've got to stop!"

Jehan put himself between Bahorel and a counterrevolutionary. Both of them were sporting bruises already. "_Mes amis!_ We can discuss this civilly!" he shouted. 

"Enough with that talk! Go elsewhere with your whore!" the counterrevolutionary spat at him.

Jehan was livid. "What--" he began, biting back an oath as he stood up straight. "You will mind your language, Citizen! In front of a church too!"

As a result, he got a punch to the nose. Bahorel sprang forward to defend his stricken friend as Azelma pulled Jehan out of the now out-of-control mob. The police had now arrived, with Prefect Gisquet.

While all of this chaos was breaking out, a plump young woman wearing a violet dress managed to slip away. This sensible girl ran in the direction of a small house where three young men sat trying to console a recently widowed woman. 

"Laurent!" the girl shouted, rapping on the window. 

Grantaire went over to the shutter and opened it. "Nicholine, _cherie_?"

Nicholine Montrose nodded. "There's a riot. People are hurt. We'll need doctors by and by." 

Grantaire turned back to his friends in the house. "You heard the lady. I'll stay with Madame Levine till the undertaker comes for her husband and her daughter. You and Joly go on ahead." 

Combeferre and Joly quickly emerged from the house after a few moments of hurried discussion. "Where have you come from?" Joly asked Nicholine.

Nicholine glanced towards the cathedral. "I still hear their shouting," she said fearfully.

"Over what?" Combeferre asked. 

Nicholine shrugged. "People in white."

Joly rubbed his nose with his cane. "Citizeness Montrose, run to my place and tell my wife that I'll be at the hospital," 

Combeferre knocked back on the house's door. "Grantaire?" 

"Still here?" Grantaire asked, peering out. 

Combeferre nodded. "Before you go to Corinth or anywhere else, find Enjolras. Or if not, find Eponine."

Grantaire retreated back in the house without saying a word. "What was that about?" Nicholine asked Combeferre.

Combeferre hailed a fiacre. "A resolution that needs to be tested."   
"Just when the resolution is likely to be passed, this has to happen," Enjolras said through gritted teeth some hours later as he and Combeferre stopped outside the Palais de Justice. It was already evening.

"Likely? You were able to push for it?" Combeferre asked.

Enjolras nodded. "It was not easy to convince the other legislators why abolishing the death penalty would be better than the old rules."

Combeferre shrugged. "Some people want those conspirators dead." 

"That is unfortunate. The deaths of Brutus and Cassius are tragedies in themselves. The loss of life is irreversible, and so taints the victory of Octavian and Mark Antony."

"On the other hand, there are those who are of the same mind as you. We can try people for assault, for manhandling and manslaughter, but not for their opinions."

"What about sedition?" Enjolras asked testily.

"Enjolras, they were only giving out pamphlets!" Combeferre said sharply. "You do not mean---"

Enjolras ran a hand through his hair wearily. "Under the reign of Louis-Philippe, possessing mere propaganda was a severe offence."

"And you say this Republic does better?" Combeferre asked, raising an eyebrow. "If our revolution had failed, we would all have been executed for treason. All of us, even Marius, Eponine, and Gavroche,"

"Treason as opposed to inciting to sedition. There's a difference," Enjolras reminded his friend. "Inciting others to action is a few steps from actually taking up arms or in some cases, betraying the state."

Combeferre crossed his arms. "You're treading on dangerous ground."

"I know." 

"Then--"

"You think we're all fools as to decide overnight the fates of these men?" Enjolras asked. "Well, the resolution is still subject to amendment. I have tried to write it so that a change will be nearly impossible to turn to the worse, but even the absolute does have a failing. I have tried to abolish it, but I know that a few will not agree to every word I have written. I'll be plain with you, Combeferre; I detest the idea of killing, but the security of the whole must be taken into question. I'd rather that none of this had happened; that today's riot hadn't broken out at all. For now, under the law, those men will be put in prison, for their safety as much as the public's." 

Combeferre nodded contentedly. "A safe first step, like that of a child learning how to walk."

Enjolras bit his lip. "How many people were hurt or killed?"

"One man died. Several children were injured badly. The rest, even Bahorel, got away with cuts and bruises. Joly is still at the hospital with a serious case," Combeferre reported.

Enjolras nodded and fiddled with the buttons of his coat. "Ravigard was among the conspirators. That's why he's been disappearing, according to the rumors in the printers guild."

"And why he didn't give Eponine the key," Combeferre said. "Bamatabois suspects that the misuse of funds was for this counterrevolution. He told me so when I went to bandage his head wound."

Enjolras sighed as he looked at the dark edifice of the Palais de Justice. "Building the barricade was the simpler act," he said as he and Combeferre went inside.

Combeferre nodded knowingly. "To you, what is simpler: upholding the Republic's principles on paper, or convincing a mind to change?"

Enjolras slowed down his stride and looked around thoughtfully. "Neither." 

"Yet you've managed both, to some degree," Combeferre pointed out. "I'd prefer the second though; that is education. Speaking of education, I recall that Eponine was supposed to return something to you?"

Enjolras sighed and shook his head. "It was a copy of Locke's writings. Actually, I told her to keep it. Jacques drew all over it."

"_Mon Dieu_. Not a day goes by without some escapade in that house." Combeferre chuckled.

Enjolras smiled wryly. "I worry about Eponine a good deal lately. It's not just because she manages to get into trouble almost each time she and her siblings are left to their own devices."

Combeferre had to kill the grin on his face. "You're a little uneasy because of all your mother's insinuations."

Enjolras shook his head. "What reason do I have to be?" '

Combeferre merely rolled his eyes.  
Meanwhile, Eponine was already at her flat, preparing a modest dinner for herself and her siblings. "Jacques, when did Gavroche and Neville say they'd be back?" she asked her youngest brother.

Jacques looked up from his scribbling. "I don't know. They're with that nice old lady, Citizen Enjolras' mamman. And Citizen Gille--"

"Gillenormand," Eponine said, stirring the soup. It had taken a good deal of work to get little Jacques to stop calling people as 'old man' and 'old woman', and to leave off calling Enjolras and their other friends as 'uncle', 'aunt' or even worse 'brother' or 'father'.

_"At least he doesn't call me 'Maman'."_ Eponine thought wryly as she went to find some clean dishes. She heard what sounded like hushed whispers from the street and something in the back of her mind made her uneasy. Quietly, she went to the window.

From below the street, several voices could be heard.

"That boy Enjolras was a fool to leave me with the papers. I have sold them and reverted to Jondrette."

"Clever innkeeper. Well, what will we do first?"

"Babet is on his way out. Guelemer, you will pass for him?"

"Yes. Perhaps we should talk to that boy Montparnasse again."

"Brujon, he still has the _lingres_. We'll go by later, see if we can get him to turn around. For now, _pioncez!_,"

"Lest the _fee_ run!"

Back upstairs, Eponine quickly scooped up Jacques. "Where to go?" she asked in a whisper. 

"Ponine?" Jacques asked, wide-eyed.

Eponine clapped a hand over the boy's mouth as she looked around. The one-room flat had windows that looked out to the street. Suppose she climbed down into the shadows when they went up? Eponine shook her head as she took a look at her wounded hand. She could hide Jacques under the bed, but what of her?"

"If I get out of here, where can I run?" she wondered. She knew that Enjolras, Combeferre, and her other friends were far-off. "By the time I get to the corner---"

A knock sounded on the door. "Eponine, open up!" Brujon growled.

Eponine picked up a fork and backed herself and Jacques into a corner. "Get under the bed," she mouthed to her brother. Obediently, the child crawled into the darkness and curled up, shaking.

The door's lock gave way and the creaky door swung open to reveal three men dressed in dark clothing. Before Eponine could run or lunge at them, Guelemer was at her side.

"Don't do anything, Eponine," her father said quietly. Brujon bent down and roughly jerked Jacques out from under the bed. He muffled the child's yells with a handkerchief.

"Let us go, or I'll..." Eponine began before she felt the cold chill of a blade at her neck. 

"Or you'll scream, hussy?" Brujon mocked. Guelemer grabbed Eponine by both her arms and twisted them behind her back. 

Eponine swallowed hard, wincing in pain. "What do you want?"

"Come with us. This won't take long," Guelemer said in her ear.

"I won't do anything. What difference does it make if you bleed me?" Eponine asked.

"To him," Thenardier said, poking one end of a cudgel at little Jacques, who was struggling in Brujon's grip.

Eponine took a deep breath and shuddered. "Don't hurt him. Or the others," she said in a whisper. It was no use lying where everything was in plain sight.

"We won't. Now you'll know this new place better than we do," Guelemer said. "We'd ask Montparnasse to help, but you'll have to do."

"Will the neighbors know?" Brujon asked his companions warily.

"The concierge is away at dinner, washerwoman was in a brawl and she had to see someone anyhow, that fanmaker. The doctor is busy, and as for that lawyer? I'll give him a pinch if he tries anything for this slut." Thenardier said, motioning for the entire party to leave the flat. He made sure to put out the candles and shut the door as Guelemer roughly ushered Eponine down the stairs.

Not a minute later, a fiacre was seen going in the direction of the Rue del Lamarque.


	70. A Light Causes a Little Trouble

**A Light Causes A Little Trouble**

"You stay here and watch them. They're no use to us inside," Thenardier instructed Guelemer as the latter pried away several steel bars that comprised the iron grille over a window in a building on the Rue del Lamarque.

Brujon grabbed Eponine's arm. "Are you sure this is the right place?" 

Eponine looked at him and shrugged. "I don't see where else you'd want to be."

"The poulet has a tongue," Guelemer said harshly. He had with him a crowbar, which he handed to Babet. "Well then?"

Babet dusted some soil off his ragged clothing. "Have you got everything?" he asked in a low voice. "I have the pistol, and you..."

"The pens and the other tools. We shan't be very long." Brujon said. "I'd feel better if we had Montparnasse with us. What happened to him?"

"Boy has been avoiding me. Never mind for him," Babet said.

Little Jacques squirmed and whimpered in Babet's grip. "I want to go home!" he wailed.

"Quiet now!" Eponine said, reaching for him. "Let me have him, Babet. Or he'll cry out louder, then where will we all be?"

Babet let go of Jacques, who promptly ran over to Eponine and buried his sobbing face in her skirt. "What trouble these two are," Babet remarked, shaking his head.

"Well, we can't have them going over to tell anyone," Thenardier said. "Guelemer, keep an eye on them," he added before slipping into the opening in the window. Babet and Brujon followed suit.

Eponine sighed, feigning boredom. "I don't know what they want with papers and things. There's not much here, you know," she said to Guelemer.

"They're of value, so your father says," the cutthroat muttered.

"Well, there's a fool out there who's bought his papers," Eponine laughed. Her laugh was hollow, as if she was defying a certain doom. "It'll come out by and by."

"Say anything girl..." Guelemer began, holding out his knife.

Eponine drew herself up to her full height. However, she only came up to Guelemer's chest. "I'm not afraid. You know that. You couldn't send me away from Rue Plumet, and what of here? I go missing, and people will find me. Dead or alive, does it matter?" she said harshly. 

"You're getting quite out of your place. I'll show you where it is, you hussy," Guelemer snarled, reaching for her. As if seized with a sudden terrible impulse to provoke the man, Eponine dealt him a backhanded slap across his face. As the robber howled in pain, the young girl lifted her brother off his feet and ran with him into the only other direction: into the still darkened building. 

"I'll get you for that!" Guelemer roared, breaking down the door in his path. "Babet! Brujon! That wench is going in. Find her right away!"  
Upstairs on the third floor, two young men were busy rifling through some papers under the dim light of a lamp that stood on a cleared off desk.

"I could have sworn that the receipts were here," Courfeyrac said, rearranging the contents of a desk. "I was only looking at them a few days ago!"

"I thought the papers were put in the room of records already?" Enjolras asked. He paused as a rather audible thump sounded from downstairs. "Someone's here."

"A ghost maybe?" Courfeyrac asked lightly.

Enjolras shook his head. "No phantom would make a sound so solid." He went to the door and listened quietly. "Either we are deluded, or there's a prowler."

Courfeyrac looked around and went to the window to peer out briefly. "Let's just find those papers and then leave," he said uneasily.

"The records are kept downstairs." Enjolras said, opening the door of the room they were in. He walked towards the records room, with Courfeyrac some two steps behind him. The two lawyers stopped now and then as the sounds continued: a door opened and shut, footsteps echoed in the hall, and once, Enjolras thought he saw a shadow furtively dart across a hallway.

The records room was unlocked when they arrived. "Someone's been curious," Courfeyrac remarked through gritted teeth.

"Prosecution has no evidence yet," Enjolras said calmly as he pushed the door open. He and Courfeyrac went to search every file cabinet in the room. The cabinets were tall, imposing cells built into the walls. Each cabinet was as tall as a man, a man made of mahogany and pine.

"It's all likely to be there, in plain sight," Courfeyrac said, gesturing to a cleared off desk. 

Enjolras quickly opened a closet near the corner, and abruptly jumped aside as something thrust towards his face. He quickly grabbed the arm of the person hiding within the closet and held up a lantern close to his assailant's face. .

"Stay back!" a terrified voice shrieked. "You can't make me get out of here!"

Enjolras almost dropped the lantern on hearing the speaker's voice. "Eponine, come to your senses! What's going on in here?" he asked sharply.

Eponine's face flushed crimson as she recognized him. "Enjolras, you have to get away from here," she said quickly. She had a fork in one hand, while her other arm was wrapped around Jacques.

"I should be asking you that question," Enjolras said as he reached for Jacques and set him down on the floor. He gave a hand to Eponine to help her climb down.

Eponine looked around, terror evident in her eyes. "It's Patron-Minette. I didn't want to come, but they had _lingres_ with them. What could I do?"

Courfeyrac suddenly came up to them. "I have the papers. We'd better go," he said in a low voice.

"You here too, Courfeyrac?" Eponine murmured as footsteps sounded in the passage. "Oh no, here they are!"

Courfeyrac moved to douse the lantern but Enjolras shook his head. "No use feeling about in the dark," the older man mouthed as he began looking around for a way to escape. 

The door swung open to let in Guelemer and Brujon. "See, that hussy has called the _cognes_!" Guelemer said.

"It's just the two whelps," Babet said as he shoved his way between the two newcomers.

Enjolras squared his shoulders. "Now what business have you both in here?" he asked in a commanding tone, stepping between his friends and the robbers. The calm around him was deadly, and it was enough to keep the men of Patron-Minette a few paces away from the little group.

Thenardier came into the room. "Ah, we meet again, Citizens," he said in a tone that was meant to be elegant.

"Under less fortitious circumstances than last," Enjolras said curtly.

"Well, I can't think of a better place for things that had better be kept in the dark," Courfeyrac said lightly.

Thenardier nodded, as if getting only half of this jest. "My colleagues here have misplaced something. Perhaps with your graciousness, we could retrieve it?"

'What of the crowbars?" Enjolras asked, gesturing to the tools the men held.

"We are honest men---" Babet began.

Eponine shook her head. "It's all good as if this was broad daylight. There's a lamp, we see each other's faces, so come ahead and tell us that you mean well!"

"We'll deal with this girl first," Brujon growled, glancing at his companions.

"What about them?" Babet asked, discreetly gesturing to Jacques, Enjolras, and Courfeyrac. He made a signal to Thenardier.

Courfeyrac noticed this first. He quickly punched Babet, who was closest to him. Enjolras knocked Brujon to the floor as the latter tried to grab Courfeyrac and Eponine. Jacques retreated to a corner as Guelemer tried to catch him. Enjolras pulled at Guelemer's coat, yanking him to the ground.

Eponine quickly sprang at her father , who had his hand in his shirt front.

"You did not have to do this, _fee_. Now stay out of this, for the last time," Thenardier laughed at her as he grabbed her by her hair.

"No, I won't let you!" Eponine said through clenched teeth as she tried to pry the pistol from his bony hands. Thenardier shoved her to the floor, but in the process, let go of the gun and the weapon skittered across the floor. In an instant, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Babet, and Guelemer all dove for the gun.

Moments later, a shot was heard in the building, followed by a scream.


	71. A Little Inconvenience

**A Little Inconvenience**

"Now _that_ is a story." 

"That is the biggest understatement we've heard from you yet, Grantaire."

The drunkard grinned at the small group that had gathered at the stoop of the now locked up bookshop on the Rue des Filles du Calvaire. "Why, it's lesser than an epic, but larger than a ballad..."

Enjolras shut the folder he had on his lap. "It will be impossible for me to finish all of this paperwork if I am to deal with one interruption after another," he said in an annoyed undertone. He held back a yawn as he looked at Grantaire in the eye. "The people cannot wait."

Joly shook his head. "Well, while we're waiting for Marius here, I'd better finish the tale of what happened last night."

"You'd know the final outcome better than I would. How's Citizen Thenardier?" Enjolras asked mildly.

"Well, he's lucky that Brujon didn't shoot off his leg," Joly said with a shrug as he rubbed his nose. "He complained all the while that I was doing him no good. He insisted all the while that he was Jondrette, but everyone knows better. Combeferre had to hold him down while I removed the bullet. He'll be walking again in a month though. He's staying at the hospital till then."

Enjolras frowned wryly. "The irony of being shot with one's own gun. Serves him right if he gets tried for burglary _only_. If one were to really give his story a thought, half of it would turn out to be a crime."

"Well, he's a wretched crook of a man," Bossuet observed. "Abandoning his children, selling off his name...he makes the heathen savages look sainted." 

Just then, Eponine came walking, holding a basket. She stopped outside the door and shook her head. "Another day of this, and I will need to find another job," she sighed as she sat right beside Enjolras.

A smile formed awkwardly on Enjolras' face. "Good morning, Eponine."

"Enjolras, you look as if you haven't slept in two days," Eponine said, touching his face gently.

"Three actually," Enjolras said, taking her hand.

Eponine clucked her tongue. "You worry me. Last night, most of all. That bullet..." 

"It could have hit anyone," Enjolras said. "Still, it's good to see that we're all safe."

Eponine smiled. What are you all here for anyhow?"

Grantaire gestured in the direction of Number Six. "He's late again."

"Well, if I had a wife like he does..." Bossuet began before trailing off under Joly's withering glare. "Never mind, I'm sure he has a rational explanation..."

Eponine reached into her basket. "I was passing by the bakery, and I thought I'd get some breakfast for all of us. Spending the night in the Palais de Justice, in the street, in the hospital, now everyone's tired and out resting or sleeping...all because of a little trouble with those posters and papers! I'd make things a little better any way I could," she said as she brought out some bread and several boiled eggs. 

Grantaire grinned at Enjolras. "You're a lucky man." 

"Enough of that," Enjolras said as he took a piece of bread and one egg.

Eponine leaned against the doorframe. "You might want to be careful. I'm not sure if I boiled them long enough."

Enjolras looked at her, then at the liquid egg yolk that had gotten all over his hands. "_Merci_, Eponine," he muttered.

Eponine clapped a hand over her mouth and for a moment, her face was red. "Oh! _Je suis desole!_ Here, give me your hands. I'll clean them up," she said hurriedly.

"I'm fine. I'll manage," Enjolras said, wiping his hands on his own handkerchief.

"Well then, Eponine, so your father got shot, now what?" Bossuet asked.

"I don't concern myself with him, not very much," Eponine said.

"And why not? He is your father," Marius chimed in as he stood in front of them.

Eponine twiddled her thumbs and swallowed the bread she'd been chewing. "Never had a _surin_ at your neck before, Marius?" 

Marius sighed. "I'm going over to the hospital to give him some francs for a doctor and bandages. Just to fulfill a promise. He did save my father's life at Waterloo."

Enjolras raised an eyebrow as he dusted off the bread crumbs from his clothes. "Buonaparte at Waterloo, to choose between the asp and the viper?"

Eponine elbowed him. "Enjolras, you do have only one thing in mind, don't you?" she chided.

"You didn't have to do that," Enjolras said, rubbing his side where Eponine's elbow had dug into his ribs. "At any rate, Eponine, at least you should go. I doubt that M. Ravigard will be here today, and so you have the day at your leisure."

Eponine tilted her head slightly. "Won't you come with me?"

Enjolras shook his head. "Not yet. I have things to do. Marius, will you both be there for a long time? There is that meeting, and all the matters that need to be discussed."

Joly got up. "I'll go with them as well. See you all later."

"Be careful. I doubt he'll be in a rational frame of mind," Bossuet said.

"Another understatement," Enjolras said, watching them go.  
Thenardier sat up in bed as the curtain near his bed was drawn back. "What are you doing here?" he sneered at his daughter.

Eponine looked at him keenly. "Seeing you. Papa, I was so worried! After that shot, I began praying though none of you heard me. I didn't want you or anyone to die."

Thenardier scowled at her. "Who are you with?"

"Baron Pontmercy and Citizen Joly. They're gone now, though."

"Where's Citizen Enjolras?" 

"He's working," Eponine said. "Can you believe it, Papa? I don't know how he does it all without resting! I was so afraid he wouldn't have anything or any time to eat, so I went and brought a little breakfast for him and all our friends. I care for him since he cares for everyone, and he's such a good gentleman, really. He's a wonderful man, you know. I'm sure he didn't mean for last night to happen, but it did. He's the one who told me to come to you,"

If Eponine hadn't been so caught up with praising Enjolras, she would have noticed the sly leer forming on her father's face. "That will do, Eponine. Yes, I'm fine. I get a bed while the others sleep on the floor in La Force?" Thenardier asked. 

Eponine laughed. "Not so nicely, you know." 

Thenardier nodded. "You're being silly and in love with that young man, I know. Ah, you're a clever girl, knowing who to ask from."

Eponine stood up straight. "He's as poor as I am, especially now. Doing the law honestly never got one a lot of francs."

Thenardier's face fell. "You're a bigger fool than I thought."

A few minutes later, Eponine took her leave of her father. She walked away from the hospital, and got as far as the corner before pausing and looking back.

"Maman did love you once," she whispered, wrapping her shawl tighter around herself. "And I...I think I'll love him always, you know. I wish you'd understand that," she whispered before walking away. It was the last time she'd look back.


	72. The Color of Desire: I

**The Color of Desire: I**

On the thirteenth of March, several things were slated to take place.

One was the first arraignment of the counterrevolutionaries who'd been involved in the brawl outside Notre Dame. Among this unfortunate group was the bookshop owner M. Ravigard, and several government officials. Bamatabois, Courfeyrac, Jehan, Azelma, Feuilly, and all the rest who'd been involved in the confusion were all fined for disorderly behavior.

The second was the transfer of some convicts within La Force. A dozen guards had to be called to ensure that Patron-Minette would not try anything in the way of escape. Prefect Gisquet had also ordered a search all over Paris to weed out Panchaud, Magnon and anybody else associated with Patron-Minette.

The third was a ball hosted by an acquaintance of the Gillenormands, Citizenness Doulcet. The Doulcet family was well-known for its parties and social events. However, this was the first time that a 'wider circle of guests' was to be invited to this event. Gossips said that this was merely an attempt to have the family stay in the good graces of the Republic. However, those who were actually aware as to the Doulcets' motives simply kept silent.

Now, it happened that one of those who knew was Monique D'Aubain Enjolras, who'd been a schoolmate of one of the Doulcet matrons. On the evening of the ball, Monique set out to ensure that all the young people she knew would be present.

As fate would have it, she found her own son on his way home from the Rue del Lamarque. It was five in the afternoon.

"Antoine, aren't you going to the Doulcets' ball this evening?" she greeted him sharply.

Enjolras looked at his mother with a diffident smile. "I have things I need to attend to, most urgently."

"Your friends are going."

"That is their affair, mother. Not mine."

"Surely you won't let Eponine go without an escort?"

"Mother, what is to you whether I want to take part in such frivolity or not?" Enjolras asked. He had to admit though that his mother had a point. 

Monique crossed her arms furiously. "Antoine, you must learn social graces. You'll fall out of favor with the legislature if you keep to yourself. I know, I know, you'll argue that you need to work for the people. But the bourgeois...people like your father, can't understand that yet," she said calmly. "Besides, you might even enjoy it. And don't tell me that your clothes are too shabby for the occasion."

Enjolras nodded knowingly. "I'll see then," he said before going off down the street towards his flat. Monique shook her head and went the other way, to where she knew that Courfeyrac lived, and also where most of his friends would be at this hour.

"If one can't enter the right way..." she said to herself.

"...one can always try climbing in through the window."

Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Joly, Musichetta, Eponine, Azelma, and Jehan almost burst out laughing at Bossuet's statement. All of them were in an anteroom in the Doulcets' house. Guests were milling about and music was playing.

"Actually, Patron-Minette would break down the door first," Eponine pointed out.

"You mean Enjolras' mother just went up to you and compelled you to go to his place and drag him out here?" Azelma asked.

Eponine shook her head. "I had Combeferre take care of it for me." 

"All I did was just give Bahorel, Grantaire, and Feuilly the key to our flat." Combeferre shrugged. "At any rate, they should all be on their way here."

Musichetta rolled her eyes. "Patrice, was your friend always that grave and reserved?" she asked her husband.

"No, from what I know," Joly said. "He did use to laugh a lot." 

Combeferre motioned for everyone to lean in closer. "Once, it must have been about five, no six years ago, Enjolras used to play the violin beautifully."

Eponine's eyes widened with amazement. "I never knew he loved music!"

"He has quite a gift for it," Courfeyrac added.

Eponine laughed as she smoothed down her red ball dress. "I wish I could play the pianoforte, but look at my hand. Look at me. I'm not quite fit to be here with such fine company. All these ladies are in their finest, all of you are. Me, all I have is this gown I got from someone else's giving."

Azelma and Musichetta exchanged despairing looks. "Eponine, you were always the pretty one," her sister said after a few moments.

Eponine shrugged. Her slender shoulders still looked slightly awkward in the ballgown which she'd altered to better suit her skinny frame. Eponine had long given up on ever filling out nicely. "Once, maybe," she said, adjusting the neckline of her gown.

"Ah, there they are!" Musichetta said. She half-pushed Eponine to the front of the group. "Go greet him,"

'Not like this!" Eponine said. She hid her face as she caught a glimpse of Enjolras outside in the hall. In the crowd, he stood out because of his height, his golden hair, and the commanding and charming air he had about him. He had dressed neatly for the occasion; he'd chosen to wear his best suit of clothes.

"He is so handsome...I can't possibly let him see me so unseemly!" Eponine whispered furtively.

"Ladies, or Graces?" Grantaire called as he joined his friends.

"Graces actually," Jehan grinned at Azelma.

Eponine sighed and managed a smile as she waved at Enjolras, Bahorel, and Feuilly, who were just entering the room. "I didn't know you were all coming," she said to them in general, but her eyes were on Enjolras.

"I have...reasons." Enjolras said cordially, looking her in the face.

"Which are?" Eponine asked.

Enjolras paused, as if trying to think of the words to say. Everyone else exchanged mischievous glances, noting the silence.

"See, he's speechless because of her," Musichetta said in an undertone.

"Chetta!" Eponine whispered, elbowing her. "How can he possibly..."

"I have people I need to speak to, and someone has to keep you out of trouble?" Enjolras quipped at last.

"One and the same," Eponine said more confidently, standing up straighter. "Now, don't I look nicer?"

Enjolras smiled as he let her take his arm. "How long have you been here?"

"Ah, long enough," Eponine said.

"You still have your gloves," Enjolras noted.

"To hide my hand!" 

"Does it matter?"

"Well, to you?" 

Enjolras reached for her hand discreetly. "No. You get on fine just the same. As long as you're safe, I won't worry, you shouldn't worry," he said, dropping his voice so that only she could hear him in the throng.

Eponine sighed. _"I may not be beautiful, but at least..."_ she thought as she and Enjolras went with a few friends to talk to some other acquaintaces across the room.


	73. The Color of Desire: II

**The Color of Desire: II**

A quarter of an hour later, as the first strains of a waltz began to play, Enjolras made sure to steer clear of the dance floor lest Courfeyrac and Bossuet pull him into yet another awkward situation. The young statesman took refuge in one of the dining rooms where a fair number of the guests had gathered to partake of some of the refreshments.

He found Combeferre and Eponine chatting at one of the tables. "I figured you two would be looking for partners by now," he said as he took a seat.

Combeferre waved to the dance floor. "Perhaps at the next dance. And you?" 

"I just came from having a good word with the other legislators," Enjolras said matter-of-factly. "There was much we had to talk about; trade policies for instance, and what to do about those counterrevolutionaries."

Eponine shrugged. "None of which I understand rightly. I read Rousseau, and the charter and Lord knows what else, but the law is too...fine..."

"I'm surprised you're still seated here," Enjolras remarked. He realized he had been staring at her all this while and he averted his eyes.

Eponine swirled around the wine in her glass. "I never learned how to dance," she said quietly.

"How now?" Combeferre asked. 

"Maman wanted to teach me and my sister, but we were living at Gorbeau House then. Besides, who would I have danced with...it seems all so long ago now, wouldn't you believe it?" Eponine asked. "Azelma insists on dancing with Jehan; that's all well and good for her. I'll sit here if you don't mind. Less people to see how shabby I look. I can't buy a new gown or trinkets like the ladies who asked me earlier when you were talking with all your friends; what's a girl like me to do?"

"You don't need those to live," Enjolras pointed out.

"But it isn't wrong to want some nice things now and then?" Eponine asked. "A lovely dress, a necklace, a garden to walk about in. You know, _mes amis_, I am thinking of getting a different place. That room I rent, it's awfully tiny for all of us." 

"Not to dissuade you, Eponine, but how will you pay?" Enjolras asked.

"I'll do it honestly," Eponine replied, sitting up straight. "I sometimes sew. I can cook. Not boiled eggs though. Tomorrow, I'm going out to look for something better. That bookshop was all good, but with Ravigard inside La Force, what of it? My brothers need new clothes...Gavroche is getting tall. And my father in the hospital! Oh I am to pay a bit for it!" she added with a nervous laugh.

Enjolras looked down, feeling proud yet full of pity for Eponine. He could see through the show of bravado that the girl was putting up, but was encouraged by the fact that Eponine was learning to think rationally amidst desperation. "I'll help you find something," he said. "Combeferre, you have patients, perhaps they do know of things she can do." 

"I haven't had the opportunity to cure a bourgeois patient, if that's what you hope for," Combeferre said. "I do most of my work at the hospital."

"You need not worry. I'll manage, you'll see!" Eponine said, putting a hand atop of Enjolras' fingers.

"The price we all pay for trying to be of help," Enjolras remarked wryly.

"If you are to still be completely transparent with your work, you'll only take home just enough each day," Combeferre pointed out, wiping his spectacles. "It is tempting I have to admit..." 

Enjolras nodded. "Yes, but freedom and truth cannot be bought for so low a price,"

Eponine looked at him keenly. "I wish I could be as brave...to do all that you can do! To see all you can see...do you remember when I first spoke to you at the barricade?"

"Not quite." Enjolras replied. 

Eponine grinned. "You were alone, watching. I walked up to you to ask if Marius was coming. You weren't so sure..." 

Combeferre smiled. "I saw you talking. Enjolras, after that, she went to the back of everything, and you went to speak with me. Not long after, Gavroche came running."

Enjolras nodded. "And we all know what happened next."

Eponine shuddered and looked around. She flexed her scarred hand tentatively. "I'll always remember," she said in a whisper.

Suddenly, shouts and exclamations came from an anteroom. "News," Enjolras mouthed as they all rushed to the door.

A servant had Navet in his grasp. The boy's hands were slick with printer's ink, and his face was dirty. "Let me go! I've got a story!" the gamin howled, grabbing at a maid.

"Now what's happened?" Combeferre asked, going to the boy.

Navet wiped his hands on his pants. "A runner came to Paris. There's news from the borders!"

"What?" Enjolras asked.

Navet stared at him. "Metter---" 

"Metternich. What does he want?" Enjolras asked. 

Navet scratched his head. "I don't know. But he's got quite a group with him, and he's coming in two days! Oh by the way, Patron-Minette has escaped again..."

"_Mon Dieu!_" some voices gasped.

Enjolras shook his head. "Perhaps Bamatabois can apply his talents to investigating the penal system and the prisons next."

"The party looks like it will end not very long from now, judging by all the people who will need to go," Courfeyrac said, coming up to them.

Enjolras nodded. "And a good thing too. We have to take our leave; now there's too much to do,"

Eponine took his hand. "I'll stay with you. Patron-Minette being what it is, we're safer off together than alone."

"You're free to your share of what is to be done," Enjolras said as he began to search for their coats on the coat rack. He handed a shawl to Eponine while the rest found their coats and hats.

"So much for revelry," Grantaire muttered as they went to take their leave of the Doulcets.


	74. To See the People Rise

**To See The People Rise**

"I do wonder, when can we ever go a week without getting into some trouble?" Eponine said aloud as she walked up the street on the morning of March 15. She was dressed rather nicely for the day in a blue dress with a matching shawl and a clean pair of boots, but upon closer inspection, it was plain that her clothes were darned and her shoes were only brushed up with a good deal of effort.

Eponine tugged at the strap of the satchel she carried at her side as she began humming a little ditty. "_I knew a young man once, with eyes like the stars. He gave me poems, he gave me flowers, we walked out on the Luxembourg..."_

She stopped, reddening slightly under the glances people were giving her. "No time to be wasted. Anyhow, he's busy and I won't get in the way. He's got things to do and I have too...he's got the law and the politics, and I have the books. Two days without seeing him, what can I do for him, I never know," she said, walking more smartly towards the Rue St. Marte, where her new place of work was situated.

"Citizeness Thenardier!" a voice called to her.

Eponine turned and saw a middle-aged woman staring at her. "Who are you? How do you know my name?" Eponine cautiously asked the stranger dressed all in lace.

"You can call me Zelphine. Are you going to the gathering outside Notre Dame?" the woman said.

"Notre Dame?" Eponine repeated, furrowing her brow.

"You should know. You and..." Zelphine began before shaking her head. "My son is a clerk at the Rue del Lamarque. I know you and Citizens Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Feuilly have been doing quite a bit already to prepare for the visit..."

Eponine's hand flew to her mouth. "_Mon Dieu!_ They're here already?"

Zelphine smiled. "So I hear from the neighbors who saw the carriages passing. And Prussian officers are here too."

Eponine cringed. "_Merci_, Zelphine. Are you going too?" 

Zelphine nodded and walked up to beside Eponine. "You and Citizen Enjolras, how does it go?"

"Well enough," Eponine replied uneasily. "_Does all of France know?"_ she wondered. Still, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement at the fact that she and Enjolras were now among the most talked-about people in some Parisian circles. _"Maman would find this something to laugh about. Me going about with a man like him...an innkeeper's daughter with a statesman?"_

Eponine assisted Zelphine as they walked; the former seamstress complained of a bad back from time to time. As the two women made their way towards Notre Dame, they noticed the crowd slowly growing.

"It looks like everyone would want to watch," Zelphine remarked.

Eponine sighed. "Anyone would like to see a bit of gold even on a carriage. Even a Prussian one. "

The throng was very thick outside the cathedral so that people were climbing to rooftops to see what was going on. It was as if it was the Terror all over again, only that there was no guillotine to be seen anywhere, only a few platforms and podiums. 

Eponine stood on tiptoe, searching for a familiar face as Zelphine disappeared into a house. "Feuilly!" she called, catching sight of a man passing by a dais.

The fanmaker, dressed in his best coat, went over to her. "You too?" he asked.

"Why do they hold the meeting out here? The Rue del Lamarque hall is good enough." Eponine asked him as she handed him the pamphlets she carried with her.

"Because no one would dare to shoot outside our lady," Feuilly said, gesturing to the church. "Actually, Enjolras, Bahorel and some of the legislators from Aix and Marseilles were asking the same question."

Eponine nodded. "An accord?" 

"Shh!" someone hissed in the crowd.

Feuilly shrugged. "I'm with the diplomats. Courfeyrac is with them too. Will you be able to find a place?"

Eponine looked around. "No, maybe not. I don't understand much of this, and I meant to ask Enjolras to explain it all to me, but I haven't seen him long enough since the ball to ask him about it."

Feuilly led her towards the dais. "See some of the men there?" he asked, pointing to some ostentatiously dressed delegates.

'One of them is a baron not as nice looking as Marius. I gave him a letter once"

"Yes. He had been hiding in Prussia since the revolution."

"Ah? That afraid?"

"Or rather, too much of the king's man in him."

Eponine suppressed a chuckle. "But this is a Republic now? It is a little better; not everything is alright, but it is a little better!" 

"Our King knows nothing of these books you speak of. It is a terrible allegation of your people to say he is the author of such things that will cause such disorder. We refute these claims of your troublemakers and we ask that they be punished to the extent of your laws." Metternich said sharply from his place with the diplomats.

"That is what they said at first when they were asked." Courfeyrac pointed out acridly.

Metternich smiled at him patronizingly. "We of Austria and Prussia desire peace as opposed to the mere assertion of power and ideas. It is not our place to intrude on the affairs of France unless they present an affront to us."

'He's got some thing to take back, that's what I think!" Eponine said under her breath.

"Quiet!" Feuilly said. "He's trying to word it all better."

"Well then, we're all playing at the bait." Eponine said. "So if it wasn't them who sent those counterrevolutionaries, then who?" 

"People who want to sow discord between nations." Combeferre said quietly from nearby. "I can't think of a better way to impede affairs as they stand or to cause friction between France and her neighbors. The trial will continue as it will. By and by, everything shall be known. Progress and Justice reveal all in due time."

"Enjolras is going up to the podium. What's he going to say?" Eponine asked.

The three friends fell silent as Enjolras took the floor. "We are aware of the agenda of our countrymen, but we refuse to punish them according to your terms. Here, upon this earth, every man has rights: the right to life that is foremost. Who then is to deny a fellowman of what is necessary, of this fundamental, of _existence_? The liberty of one man ends where the liberty of another must begin," Enjolras said.

"So it is for this reason that yesterday, the law permitting such executions had to be repealed. No, this was not a preparation for today, or a feint in the name of ties and connections. All of us are aware who stand on trial here. However, Justice is meant to bring all to light, not cause destruction. We will be no better than murderous kings or tyrants if we allow man to murder his neighbor to uphold the good. For if we are to let necessity go unchecked, we may as well be living in anarchy. To uphold freedom for all, that will be our duty, citizens..." 

"He is weary. Look, he is pale," Eponine whispered concernedly. It was plain that Enjolras had been working much too hard; though his voice was clear and his posture ramrod straight, his young face was worn. His smile was forced even as the people broke into cheers.

Eponine pushed her way through the crowd and was just in time to take Enjolras' arm as he left the dais. "Antoine, that was a lovely speech...but you must sit down," she begged him.

"Eponine, not here," Enjolras protested. 

"You're on the point of fainting. I know when you can't stand anymore," Eponine said, looking him in the face. "Sit in that chair there. No, really, that was noble, but you are tiring yourself!"

Enjolras smiled at her gratefully as he leaned against a chair. "Look at everyone though. They rise. They know at last where we stand."

"You wanted this," Eponine said. "_But so much that it could almost kill you one way or the other?"_

"You know why I want this," Enjolras pointed out as he got himself a glass of water.

"You never knew suffering; so why try so hard?" Eponine asked.

Enjolras sighed. "People have to learn."


	75. Light Does Not Stroll, But Charges Ahead

**Light Does Not Stroll, but Charges Ahead**

The afternoon played out its events in such a fashion that the newspapers were sure to have much to publish the next day. The first commentaries began going through Paris and the surrounding towns within a few hours of the convention adjourning for the day.

"One day, Austria and Prussia will see the point," people murmured. "They will have no choice but to move forward."

Inside La Force, grumbling was beginning now that all international involvement with the counterrevolution seemed to have been debunked. Among the more troublesome agitators in this band was old M. Ravigard, who had managed to upset his cellmates so much that he had to be put in solitary despite his incessant protestations.

Morning dawned upon France.  
When Enjolras opened his eyes, he almost started at the morning light that seemed to pierce through his line of sight. "What am I doing back here?" he wondered, looking around his own room. He blinked as he tried to recall the previous day's events.

"_Bonjour_, Antoine," a voice greeted from the foot of his bed.

Enjolras rubbed his eyes as he realized who was in the room with him. "Good morning, Eponine," he said, sitting up straight in an attempt to retain some dignity in the situation. For once, Eponine was better dressed than he was; she had on clean clothes, while Enjolras had managed to fall asleep wearing the same clothes he had on from the meeting. 

Eponine moved closer so that she was within arm's reach of him. "You've been sleeping since three in the afternoon yesterday," she said, amusement tinging her raspy voice. "After that speech, you still had to stand up and talk _again_. Just to get everyone to stop bothering each other, good Lord! You really don't know when to stop!"

"You're starting to sound like Combeferre," Enjolras remarked, flicking some dust off Eponine's sleeve. "Now, what are you doing here so early?" 

Eponine shrugged shyly. "I spent the night here. Oh don't laugh, and please, don't be angry with me. I hate to see you angry, you know. Azelma was in charge of things at home, so don't you tell me I forgot what I was doing. Combeferre had to run back to the hospital soon after the assembly was over, and I couldn't leave you here alone. And I wanted to stay anyway; it is better for me to know you're alright. Just like you go about making sure I'm not getting into some trouble. It's only fair, you know .I only went out for a bit before Combeferre left again. I needed to change clothes and get something for breakfast. Oh do you know, the price of bread has gone down a bit? Maybe one day, we'll go share a loaf of white bread, and how nice would that be?"

"Maybe one day," Enjolras said, getting out of bed. He smoothed down his clothes in an attempt to appear more presentable. He took a quick look at his watch. "It's half past seven. We're both going to be late."

Eponine jumped up and ran to the window. "Azelma and the boys just passing! Class starts at eight for the little ones...oh and I'm supposed to be at work at a quarter past eight!" she exclaimed. She turned back to him with a wry smile on her face. "But I will see you again later, Antoine? I'll be running errands; surely one will take me past the Rue del Lamarque!"

"I'm at the Palais de Justice today, among other places," Enjolras pointed out. "Thank you for everything, Eponine."

Eponine sighed; a sound of both satisfaction and longing. "All right then. So, I shall be on my way?"

Enjolras kissed her lightly on her forehead. "_Oui_. Now you'd better hurry."

Eponine turned to leave, but before she was at the door, she stopped. "Antoine?" she asked in a tone that was meant to be coy.

"What then?" Enjolras asked.

Eponine looked him in the eye. "You're smiling. I'm happy to see that," she said before leaving the room.

He listened to her footsteps get further and further away till he heard the outside door in the street close. "_Je t'aime_, Eponine," he murmured before readying himself for the day.  
_Palais de Justice_

Courfeyrac smirked as he watched Bossuet and Feuilly stroll into the hall. "_Bonjour mes amis_. Is the day beginning, or the evening only ending?" he called teasingly to his rather drowsy friends.

Feuilly rolled down his coatsleeves to hide some paint marks. "Beginning for me. After all the work we had to do for that visit, I was all too eager to take a rest."

"Only to have treaties drawn up, and an agreement put out that no one country can carry out activities within another outside of ambassadorial functions?" Bossuet asked.

Courfeyrac and Feuilly nodded. "That keeps the peace in Europe, gives France another foothold for the Republic, and Austria and Prussia their monarchies," Feuilly observed. "I think in the end though, we will win out. There's no stopping anyone from talking of Republic, or bringing over the charter and other writings over the borders!"

"Even with Metternich's policy? He has great influences in the royal courts still," Bossuet wondered. "And there are also our _emigre_ former nobles."

Courfeyrac adjusted his coat. "They can agitate all they wish, but at risk of throwing aside all hope for asylum," he said. "But who'd be fool enough to do that? It will be nothing more than a sneeze to attempt to undo everything." 

"With new laws being passed, people more willing to work, schools admitting more, things might take some better grounding," Feuilly said. "There, we are delivering the world. Now if only Poland---"

"Poland in time, but not by our own hands," Enjolras said, joining in. "Someday, they too will rise and throw off their chains."

Courfeyrac gave him a knowing look. "How was your morning?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. 

Enjolras smiled diffidently. "Well enough. Is everyone here already?"

"You do not mean to sit in on the counterrevolutionaries' trial, do you?" Bossuet asked.

Enjolras shook his head. "I'm here to look for precedents. There is a move to reexamine a certain number of decisions with regard to some of the laborers' cases in the provinces. If you remember that case I had with Citizeness Victurnien in Montreuil-sur-mer, a lot of it had to do with an ill-thought out ruling made on the shares for a factory in the town, and its consequences on the workers."

"Well, where would you stand?" Courfeyrac asked, crossing his arms.

"Men should get their due, but opportunities to decent living should be open to all regardless of skill, status, or pay," Enjolras said. "Actually, some groups are agitating for a law requiring a minimum wage to be given to all hired workers."

"Most of the poor are given a bread allowance, but for some, this bread is too little, but for others, it is too much." Courfeyrac pointed out. "And there is some drain on the national coffers, and this will be more evident in the years to come."

"So with this status quo, it is a question of who will be willing to give: the employers or the State?" Enjolras asked.

"All the things we must do to prove that we are better off the way we are now." Bossuet laughed. 

"Some people have proposed to try trading...and there is the question of colonies..." Courfeyrac said but he stopped under Feuilly's pointed glare.

"Come now, let's not think of oppression. There has to be some way..." the fanmaker said, his normally calm voice taking on an impassioned tone. "A better way of commerce, of being able to acquire necessities."

"Faster means of getting from place to place...imagine if we could bypass water and land, and go through the air," Enjolras said. His face was now grave yet with a look of awe around him as if the great possibility unfolding in his mind was beyond all reasonable contemplation so as to leave the thinker in admiration. "Much good and a little evil. If the wars we have now were to be fought in the skies, the stars would fall for shame! The human race would shudder to be under so much blood reigning. No, such use of progress should be unsullied. "

"But it can move in other ways. Imagine a better way of learning." Bossuet said.

"Or a great new enterprise." Feuilly wondered. "The polytechnic students have much to learn, to know, and to give."

Enjolras looked at his friends keenly. "France leading the way to be buffeted by the storms of resistance?"

"That is how it has been for some time now," Bossuet argued dryly.

"We haven't the lavish coffers of Venice, or the standing old stone of England." Enjolras added, now speaking more loudly. "But what makes France are its people; the lifeblood of this Republic is based on a free choice, liberated from the constrictions that have used to plague the nations."

"I wouldn't say that with the diplomats still in Paris," Courfeyrac cautioned.

"Why, the idea has already set in whether they like it or not." Enjolras said. "Someday, soon, _mes amis_, they will understand. We will not have to force them to see the people's point of view, our country's reasons, humanity's purpose. Light floods where it will, and consumes all darkness in its due course," he said before going upstairs to do his work.

The others watched him go. "Well, nothing bars us from sitting at the trial," Courfeyrac said. "We are free to fence in the arena, when he must conduct himself in the manner of a judge, when he must be the arbitrator."

Bossuet smiled grimly. "Shall we go to the gladiators then?" he asked, leading the way to the main courtroom door.


	76. A Sou Makes All the Difference

**A Sou Makes All the Difference**

_Palais de Justice_

In the courtroom, the cross-examination was carried out rather loudly, so that the questions of the prosecutors and the replies of the accused could even be heard in the neighboring rooms.

One questioning went in this manner:

"Your name, Citizen?"

"It is **Monsieur** Perquet."

"Your occupation?"

"A schoolteacher."

"Now to the particulars of the case: what were you doing on the morning of the tenth of this month?"

"I was only walking on the street, your honor, with my friends." 

"Going to where?"

"Notre Dame."

"When you arrived there, who did you see?"

"_Monsieur_ Bamatabois and some others"

"What was your purpose for being at Notre Dame?"

"A meeting. I have the right to it, do I not?"

"Citizen Perquet, several witnesses saw you and your companions openly distributing literature that was aimed at destabilizing the Republic and the state of France. What do you say to this charge?"

"Nothing, your honor. I was only doing my duty to the King."

That day, the word 'duty' became officially worn out within the Palais de Justice.

The details of the hearing could be heard even in the upper storeys. Even though Enjolras had not been present at the proceedings, he heard a fair amount of the particulars of each charge, and the testimonies of the defendants. As he straightened up the room he'd been working in, he could not help but marvel at the audacity the counterrevolutionaries had displayed while on trial. To him, such courage, even if running contrary to his principles, was still worthy of admiration.

"I knew you'd be here," a voice, that of his mother, said at the door. "So this is where you spend much of your time?"

Enjolras looked at her cordially. "_Salut, ma mere,_."

Monique swept into the room; her petticoats and skirts rustled along the floor as she went closer to the desk. "Do you not know that I am going back to Nice tomorrow?"

"You never mentioned it," Enjolras said, offering her a chair.

Monique primly adjusted her shawl. "Perhaps I might have, but it slipped your mind. Now, is there anything you want me to tell your father? I have had to visit you in secret. Your father does not know that I've been to see you. He thinks I'm in Paris to see my friends. I promised I would have nothing to do with you."

"And yet?"

"You're my son. How could I do such a thing to you?"

Enjolras nodded. "It will only cause more unrest in your house if he finds out."

Monique sighed. "So till next time we meet, you'll still be working in politics? How long is your tenure in the legislature?"

"Three years," Enjolras replied.

"So I expect by that time, you will have a better state of finances than you have now? Not to say that your earning your own keep is bad, but even I know you do not find it easy." Monique noted.

"Mother, a legislator does not receive anything beyond a small stipend." Enjolras explained. "Besides, what I have now pays my half of the rent, buys me my meals, and leaves me enough to save if something else comes up."

"So you do not intend to marry any time soon?" Monique asked.

"Why should I? I doubt your husband would want to see any more Republicans in his family than he already has," Enjolras quipped.

"So what of Eponine? I've heard the news, I've asked a bit. You're quite taken with her, that is plain for all of France to see."

"Now is not the time. Yes, we have gone through a great deal; at one point, Combeferre and I let her stay in with us when she did not have any place to go shortly after the revolution was won. Still, though matters have improved for everyone, it would be imprudent to even consider such a move at this point."

Monique stared at her son. "At least I raised you to be honorable, even towards women like her," she said at last, shaking her head. "So what of it? Have you spoken to her father?"

"There is no reasoning with that man."

"How bold of you to court a lady without her father's permission. I don't care if he's a convict, but you need to ask all the same."

It took all of Enjolras' restraint to keep from saying something harsh or disrespectful. "Actually, Eponine is practically an orphan. Her father does not care a little bit for her, especially nowadays since their last falling out. He's abandoned all his children."

Monique smiled pitifully. "What can you expect from men like that?"

"The good in them."

Elsewhere, matters were taking a different turn.

Eponine's boots slapped against the paving stones as she ran past a cafe. Her shawl was nearly slipping off as she hurried; time and again, she had to slow down to wind it over her shoulders. It was already about three in the afternoon. 

"What the bother for?" she asked herself after a while. Suddenly, she caught sight of a sou at her feet. She bent down and picked it up. As she turned it between her fingers, the coin parted into two pieces in her hand.

Eponine examined the sou carefully, and after a few moments, unscrewed the two halves of the coin apart. A small watchspring fell out into her palm.

"A strange little box?" she asked herself, puzzled at this little innovation.

"Citizenness Thenardier," a voice greeted from behind her.

Eponine turned. "Citizen...Valjean, isn't it? Cosette's father?"

Jean Valjean nodded. "Where did you get that?"

"I found it just now, sir. It's an odd little thing. Who'd want a watchspring?" Eponine asked. Her finger jerked away from one end of the spring when she touched it. "It's sharp!"

Jean Valjean smiled; pity and amusement were mingled on that venerable visage. "You have never seen any of those before?"

Eponine shook her head and stuck her gashed finger in her mouth. "No. Why, who'd carry such a small thing about? It is clever though. A pretty little trick!"

Jean Valjean looked around. "More than that. Now you were going somewhere?" he asked warily.

Eponine reexamined the watchspring. "Oh, wait, there's an answer to something...how easy it is! It bites hard, maybe it even cuts through metal," she said, replacing the little saw in its receptacle. She pocketed the coin and attempted to make a curtsy to Valjean before continuing on her way. 

Now, having lost the momentum that had propelled her initially through the streets, Eponine now walked more sedately towards the printers' shop. For the past few days, when she wasn't helping run the presses, she would bring papers from place to place, relay manuscripts from their authors to the printers, among a host of other errands.

The wind picked up, almost dislodging her hat and disarranging her hair. Eponine sighed as she ran her fingers through her unruly tresses. Just as she managed to get the hair out of her face, she caught sight of a scene across the street; a severely dressed young man berating a gangly boy.

"Gavroche? Enjolras? What are you doing out here?" Eponine asked, walking over towards them.

Enjolras spoke first. "Your brother hasn't been in his classes the entire day," he said to Eponine seriously, though it was plain that he was relieved to see her. "I caught him running outside the Palais de Justice not even a quarter of an hour ago."

"I am in my classes; this is a classroom, and I can teach the stones to sit still and the birds to fly off," Gavroche retorted, glancing from Enjolras to Eponine. On another child, the expression he wore might have smacked of disrespect, but on Gavroche, it was merely that of a hardened sort of playfulness.

Eponine crossed her arms. "So how was that? I saw you with the others this morning. You slipped out of school?" she demanded.

"Why, you do know how to disappear as well. It's easier for you, Ponine. Your hair acts the veil one day, the hat for the other," Gavroche said. "And a scarf sometimes too."

Eponine grabbed Gavroche's collar. "What am I to do with you? I know I'm not Maman, but I'm all you have now, and Azelma, Neville, and Jacques. Could you listen to me even a little?"

"It's too late to bring him back to his classes for today," Enjolras pointed out. 

"The street is more interesting anyhow. More people to speak to, more things to do. Shaving the barbers is fun as well." Gavroche said petulantly. "None of those long things we have to read and those sums. I say we count them all on our fingers." 

"Well, you have no business being on the streets, Gavroche," Enjolras said firmly. "So maybe before you were free to go about, but things are different now. Your education should not be put to waste."

"Ah, it's easier to walk about now that the king's shadow is removed from the streets," Gavroche said. "More light to see by instead of that fruit."

"Gavroche!" Eponine said scoldingly as she grabbed her brother's ear.

"I think he was one of those boys who used to draw pears on the walls," Enjolras said rather mirthfully, as if recalling some memory of a less complicated time.

"Ouch! Don't grab my ear like that!' Gavroche cried. Eponine let him go and he stuck out his tongue at her.

"At any rate, he is easier to draw than the legislators. Wonder what they'll draw for you, Enjolras?" Gavroche grinned. "A radish perhaps; it is smooth enough." 

Enjolras glared at Gavroche while Eponine tried to keep a straight face. "You wouldn't find it so funny if you have to shave every day like some people have to," Enjolras muttered. 

"Pears, radishes...this is how gamins talk of politics," Eponine said, shaking her head.


	77. To Notice What Spring Brings

**To Notice What Spring Brings**

The days passed by a little more peacefully.

Some time in the first week of April, the weather began getting a little more tolerable with sunny yet windy mornings, and rather breezy afternoons.

One Saturday morning, a most interesting sight was seen on the roof of 28 Rue Richelieu. A small kite, made out of thin blue paper and straight sticks, bobbed over the tenement. Three boys; one almost in his teens, the other two still very small, lay on the roof with the spool of string in their hands. They were dressed well for the weather; they had on proper hats, but they were barefoot, having discarded their shoes in the street.

"You think they'll know it's us?" Neville asked Gavroche anxiously.

"Well then, they'd have to be eagles." Gavroche replied. He kicked a pebble off the roof. The youngest of the boys, Jacques, followed suit.

"Ouch!" a shout came from the street.

"Now we've done it!" Neville whispered.

"Well, no one else can climb up here. They're all too big," Gavroche said.

"I think that kite looks familiar," Courfeyrac's voice said from the street below.

"Feuilly was working on it a few days ago..." Combeferre chimed in. "He only put it down to attend Grantaire's wedding."

"I still can't believe he asked me to be one of the witnesses," Enjolras said disdainfully. "Of all the people in Paris he could have asked..."

"Well, his wife Nicoline asked a distant cousin. That is a little more awkward," Cosette pointed out.

"For lack of any one else," Marius added. "By the way, there are three pairs of shoes in the street."

"Gavroche! Jacques! Neville!" Eponine called. "I know you're up there!"

"We'd better climb down!" Jacques said fearfully.

"But how? She'll see us!" Neville asked.

Gavroche waved at the group in the street. "We're just taking in the air, dear sister! Good morning, Baron and Baroness, and all of you gentlemen!" 

"Gavroche, get down here before you break your neck!" Eponine shouted. Her hands were on her hips and she had a worried look on her face.

"Why I ran around in the barricades, and nothing much happened!" Gavroche retorted.

Laughter ensued from downstairs. "My you do have a problem, Eponine." Marius said.

"Gavroche, please listen to your sister. You don't want your brothers to fall down, do you?" Cosette said sweetly.

"Ah ladies are calling. No good to wrinkle the flowers. We'd better go, momes," Gavroche said, giving a hand to his brothers to help them down.

The three boys hurriedly scrambled off the roof and made their way down using holes where the bricks should have been as footholds. Gavroche had the kite with him, while Jacques hung on to Neville's shirttails.

"You know, I remember how Papa got us into the yard at the convent in Picpus," Cosette giggled. She was acquiring that serene beauty of motherhood; her eyes were soft, and her cheeks rosy. She resembled a Madonna when she smiled.

"How did he?" Combeferre asked.

"He climbed up himself first then pulled me up," Cosette said. "We were running that night from Inspector Javert."

"Oh him?" Gavroche said as his feet touched the ground. "He didn't know where to put that nose of his."

Enjolras nodded. "Yes, and he suffered death for it."

Cosette and Marius exchanged a knowing look. "In the end, yes," Marius said at last.

Eponine bent down to help Jacques out with his shoes. "How did you get Feuilly's kite?"

"He was making it for Citizenness De Vaux, but we asked to borrow it from her just to see how it flew." Neville said, trying to sound important.

"Enjolras! Ponine!" Azelma called from up the street where she stood with Jehan.

"There you are, Zelma. We were just waiting for you," Eponine said to her sister. "We're going to be late for the assembly if we don't leave now. The sentence is being handed down today!"

Azelma and Jehan ran up to the group. "Your father is out of the hospital." Jehan said, glancing at the Thenardiers.

"What? He wasn't supposed to leave for a week!" Combeferre said in alarm.

"And Montparnasse wants to speak to you, Ponine. Alone." Azelma added.

Eponine's eyes widened with wonder. "Why?"

"He wouldn't say," Jehan shrugged. "We saw him on the Rue de Gres. He gave the message to your sister."

"When did he want to see me?"

"Now," Azelma said. "At the Rue del Lamarque. I think he's going to the assembly too. He was dressed for it."

"Well then, there is no harm in that," Enjolras pointed out. He took a count of the group. "We're going to need two fiacres. If we only get one, the Pontmercys and the children should get in it."

"Enjolras, we can walk. I don't mind it one bit," Eponine chimed in. "Please? It's a lovely day."

"I suppose we can spare a few more minutes," Enjolras said, offering her his arm. "Are any of you coming?"

"I guess it's only fair if they come. I did watch sometimes when Marius was still visiting Cosette at Rue Plumet!" Eponine laughed, apparently concealing her disappointment.

"Rue Plumet...we should visit that place again soon," Cosette said to Marius.

"We could go now." Marius said. "Or rather...tomorrow," he amended, noticing Enjolras' critical expression.

"Tomorrow, we can all do as we please," Enjolras said. "But for now, we are all spoken for. Now we'd better go if we are to honor all our appointments."

While Marius, Cosette, Gavroche, Jacques, Jehan, and Azelma went to find a fiacre, the rest set off on foot. Neville grabbed on to Combeferre's coat while Combeferre talked with Courfeyrac. Eponine and Enjolras walked side by side at the rear of the group.

As they went, Eponine stopped to pluck a white rose from a bush. She tucked this into her decolletage.

"Does this look a little better?" she asked Enjolras.

"Whether you wear it or not, it does not make a difference," Enjolras replied matter-of-factly.

"You think me ugly?" 

"No, I think of you as you are."

"Enjolras, what do you mean?"

"Well, by this time, you do not know?" Enjolras said, looking at her seriously.

Eponine scratched her head, smiling a little dazedly. "Not really, but I can think that it's good," she whispered if only to keep from shouting out loud or kissing him right there in the street. She simply settled for walking hand in hand with him as they came in sight of the Rue del Lamarque.


	78. The Children of the Underworld

**The Children of the Underworld**

Montparnasse fiddled with the flower in his pocket as he looked around the crowd at the entrance of the assembly hall.

Ever since attempting to 'go from Pantin to Paris', he'd seen less of the other members of Patron-Minette. Apart from the run-in he had with Babet and what news he occasionaly received about Thenardier, he hardly had a connection with his former comrades-in-crime.

Still, that did not mean that he was not being watched.

The dandy walked to the end of the throng, seeking any sign of fiacres or carriages. He nearly hit someone however when a gnarled hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Parnasse!" Eponine's voice greeted. "What's this all about?" 

Montparnasse wheeled around to face the girl. "I didn't hear you arrive."

"We walked here," Eponine explained. "You wanted to speak with me?"

Montparnasse nodded and led Eponine to a corner in the entryway. "Azelma has told you where your father is, I suppose?"

"He's out of the hospital, isn't he?" Eponine asked.

"He's still in Pantin. Not in the faubourg anymore, though. You remember the Gorbeau tenement?" Montparnasse replied.

Eponine cringed. "Too well. Cold is still in my hands." 

Montparnasse shook his head. "You and your dramatics." 

"Never mind, Parnasse. Why you love drama too and the theater."

"Anyhow, Eponine, I was there for a while to visit him. He's looking better, but he's not asking for you." 

"And you came all this way to tell me?"

"No, I came to tell you something of your mother."

Eponine's jaw dropped. "Maman? What about her? She's not alive, I know, so what?"

Montparnasse smiled bitterly. "The dead don't come back to life, save one. Your mother died in prison, you remember? Magnon visited her once, and gave her a letter. I had a damned time getting it out of Magnon yesterday, but I did it since your father asked. There's probably a letter for Azelma too, but no one can find it."

Eponine shrugged. "What would he want with Maman's letters?"

"What would you want with a halved sou?" Montparnasse retorted.

Eponine colored slightly. "I had to ask Courfeyrac to help me figure it all out. My how we all laughed when we realized it could rip things. But do you have the letter?"

Montparnasse brought a wrinkled, dirty paper out of his coat pocket. "Read it elsewhere. Not here."

Eponine pocketed the letter, and as she did this, her eyes were glimmering. "I always knew you were a good boy, Parnasse. Not an angel, but good."

"And it's good for you to be finally seeing some sense." Montparnasse said, the ghost of a genuine smile forming on his haunted face. "My best wishes for your happiness," he added, tipping his hat to her before disappearing into the throng.

Eponine sighed. "And yours too. You're going to be fine somehow," she whispered as she turned to enter the assembly hall.

She managed to find a corner in a side corridor quite hidden away from the platforms, benches and other furnishings. Eponine stood in the shadows and unfolded the paper. It smelled of mud and dust and cobwebs, and had a few dirt-streaks on it. Her mother's rough yet spidery handwriting was blurred in some places by some liquid that had splashed on the letter.

_Eponine, ma cherie, ___

_Where are you now? If La Magnon gives this to you, please know that I think about you and your sister every day. I hate your father for having put all of us into this mess. I hate him for what he has done for you both. I wish I could have stopped him. ___

_I did not want you both to have this life of living in the streets, going hungry and into prison, being handled by those men like Guelemer, Claquesous, Babet, and the rest of them. I want you to somehow become fine ladies. I want you to have a good house, lovely dresses like you used to have, and gentlemen wanting you to marry them. Maybe not that Montparnasse of yours. He's just a tramp who dresses well. Maybe not that lawyer you keep on talking about; he's so poor even if you say he's a baron. ___

_Eponine, do what you can for both of you girls. If you go back to that house, there's a little money I have under the floorboard under your pallet for you and Azelma. Go get yourself something nice. Find something to do, anything that will get you to be happy. It's all I can do for you now. ___

_I don't think I shall get out of here. These cognes are ridiculous. I tell them I did it only to live, I tell them it was your father's fault. They won't listen. Think of me sometimes, Eponine. And know that I love you, always. ___

_Your mother_

For a long time, Eponine held the letter, tears running down her face. "Maman, would you be happy with what I have done? I'm proper now, not really a fine lady, but no one calls me a thief anymore," she murmured. She looked at her hands; callused and twisted from the barricades and from work. Still, she knew that the rest of her was somehow sound and more whole than ever.

She got up and wiped the tears off her face with her sleeve. Quickly, she pocketed the letter and went into the main assembly room through a side door. She managed to find an empty seat at the far end of the hall.

Only after a few moments did she notice Combeferre and Gavroche signaling for her to join them. Sheepishly, Eponine got up and slipped down towards her friends.

"So what was that? And why are your eyes red?" Azelma asked Eponine as she sat down in the one vacant chair at the end of the row.

Eponine handed the letter to Azelma. "It was from Maman. Why didn't Magnon ever give it to me, I don't really know."

"She never thinks of anything else," Azelma said, looking up from her reading. "She took our brothers."

"And Maman sold them, so is that any better?" Eponine said. "I've paid her back now. They'll be with us forever and ever, or at least till they get families of their own. So there, it's back to some of the happier days. We'll live well now, you'll see."

Azelma looked at her sister wryly. "That's the last debt?"

"Well, I still owe you something."

"You're my sister. So what of it? I've lifted from your purse."

"Ah yes. I remember."

"So you still have things to pay back, I think?"

"No. Not with money. There are those debts I can never really repay. Like Citizen Valjean for saving my life. Or Cosette for still talking to me even after all that I almost did to Marius. And Enjolras..." Eponine said, trailing off with a smile on her face. "No, I need not pay it all back to him. He would have done it even if I hadn't asked."

"What more do we need?" Azelma said with a grin. "We've got a home, school, jobs, good clothes, I have Jehan. You have Enjolras. Now isn't that better than last year?"

Eponine nodded. "I almost can't believe this is happening."

"Ladies!" someone reprimanded from behind them.

Azelma and Eponine shrugged collectively as they sat back to listen to the sentencing.   
"The verdict for M. Ravigard: guilty. Five years in La Force."

The last of the counterrevolutionaries to be sentenced simply bowed his head solemnly as he glanced to his comrades. "The price we pay for beliefs," he said.

"Five years! They should be shot!" a dissenting voice said from the gallery.

"No; they weren't attempting anything armed!" another shouted. 

"Gentlemen, order in the court!" the judge roared. 

M. Ravigard still had his head bowed as he filed past the spectators in the gallery on the way out. He did not even look at the people's pitying glances as he passed.

However, he did notice Enjolras' impassive face in the crowd. "You know what this means," he told the younger man. "What will happen to her then?"

"She's provided for," Enjolras replied calmly.

M. Ravigard nodded as he walked past. Somehow the worry in his face seemed to have diminished even if La Force loomed in front of him.

Enjolras waited for the last of the group to leave. "The last thing Eponine needs is pity," he said as he quickly crossed the hall to where his friends were gathered, discussing the verdict.

He touched Eponine's hair gently. "What happened?"

Eponine smiled and clasped his hand. "Just now or before?"

"Before," Enjolras said. He was all too used to Eponine's ambiguity of speech to be thrown off easily.

Eponine drew him into the circle. "Oh, just something to remind me of days gone by."

"So how is it not to sit next to your friends at a political meeting?" Combeferre asked Enjolras.

"Not something I want to get used to," Enjolras replied disdainfully. "And it's not because of the bad habits of the other legislators."

"Your bad habit being?" Marius asked curiously as he helped Cosette out of her chair.

"Not always listening." Courfeyrac interrupted. "See, you have to tell him thrice sometimes..."

"Actually, it's of thinking too much," Enjolras corrected.

"About what?" Courfeyrac teased. "Or rather, who?"

Enjolras cleared his throat. "If you were in my place, the answer to 'who' would be in the plural."

"That was a low blow, Enjolras," Combeferre said, shaking his head as Courfeyrac's face reddened.

"Actually, it's in the singular nowadays," Courfeyrac mumbled.

"By the way, I think Grantaire is inviting us over later for some housewarming party of his," Cosette said. "Everyone is going to be there."

"Where?" Gavroche asked. 

"1 Rue de Gres."

"Not a far cry from the usual," Enjolras noted.


	79. Hope and Drastic Action

**Hope and Drastic Action**

If the day of the sentencing had been mild, the morning after was utterly inclement. Courfeyrac found himself soaked to the bone by the time he arrived at the Musain in the morning for breakfast.

"Ahoy there Courfeyrac!" Bahorel greeted his friend from where he was seated in a corner with Enjolras, Bossuet and Joly.

"_Bonjour _, Enjolras, Bahorel, Bossuet, Joly," Courfeyrac replied. "You're here rather early. Where are Combeferre and Feuilly?"

"Feuilly is still at Grantaire's place. Probably on the couch. Combeferre is still sleeping in as well," Enjolras replied, scorn still evident in his voice.

Bahorel winced, obviously still under the effects of a hangover. "I slept in the backroom. Jehan is still there, trying to sleep off all the wine."

Courfeyrac shook his head. "That's what you get for insisting you could walk home from last night. You should have taken Feuilly's lead and stayed over."

"I'm surprised he's not here yet. He and Grantaire are just down the road," Bossuet replied, gesturing to the street drowsily.

Courfeyrac sat down. "You and Joly look as if you've had some trouble before coming here." 

"Musichetta almost didn't let me and Bossuet in again," Joly groaned, rubbing his aching head. "We had to sleep in the hallway till about three in the morning, when she took pity on us." 

"You should have kept your keys on you," Bahorel said. "So how was your rendezvous with Citizeness Vigny?" 

Courfeyrac smiled. "Worth my time and effort." 

"Enough with the talk about ladies," Enjolras said. He knew where conversations of this sort often led. "Before you arrived, Courfeyrac, we were talking about the project that Marius told us about last night."

"The glass industry again," Courfeyrac sighed. "Put that under the provisions for livelihood."

"Actually, that is what is going to happen," Joly said. "It is a terribly good idea." 

"It was his father-in-law's innovation," Enjolras added. "Best of luck to him on that worthy venture."

The backdoor room swung open rather painfully, revealing a pale and disheveled Jehan. "I could hear you all from upstairs," he said hoarsely as he pulled up a chair.

"Easy there, Jehan. We'll get some coffee into you," Bahorel said. "Grantaire keeps too good a table."

The poet rubbed his eyes. "Did I miss anything?"

"Between bringing you here and now, nothing much." Bossuet said. "Why didn't you simply ask Azelma to let you stay over? Her flat is warmer than the backroom."

"Because we thought that Enjolras would be there?" Bahorel admitted sheepishly.

Enjolras put down his mug. "Now what makes you think I would do that? I had no business being there last night."

"Besides, there is such a thing as overstaying one's welcome," Courfeyrac yawned. "Only you would want to meet this early on a Sunday morning, church or no church."

"That's why I said we'd have to meet this early. There's still a mass at the church nearest here in two hours," Enjolras said.

"In solidarity with those with colds and wet shoes," Joly observed. "I think my pulse is weakening."

"Joly, finish your breakfast." Enjolras said sternly. "At least with the treaties in place with Austria and Prussia, there is some hope for peace. Feuilly is helping the group negotiating with England. There'll be more talks tomorrow." His gaze drifted to the tricolor that flapped in the rising wind and rain outside the cafe. 

"They'll do anything to keep their monarchy from crumbling." Bahorel said. "See how they are starting to be wary!"

"Burke was an Englishman, do not forget that," Bossuet reminded him.

The door opened, more slowly this time and Eponine entered in, looking somewhat dejected. "Good morning. Is the proprietress here? I could use some brandy, _mes amis_," she said, walking slowly past them. 

"Eponine, it's too early to be intoxicated," Enjolras said, getting up to hold her back. "Sit down and collect yourself first before you do anything drastic." 

Eponine looked at him with glazed eyes as she slumped into a chair. "I was walking back from church this morning with Azelma and my brothers."

"In this weather?" Jehan asked.

Eponine nodded as she looked at her friends. "I saw my father. You know, I never knew that he went to church for anything else outside of asking for money."

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "So what happened?"

Eponine put her hands atop of his, as if trying to draw some strength for what she would say next. "You know how he is when he's angry. You know that I am not afraid of him...so there were no _lingres_, or anyone stepping in to stop things. I sent Azelma off to bring the boys to the flat while I tried to talk to him. Papa never likes talking to Zelma anyway," she said, wincing as if in pain.

It was then that Enjolras realized that there was blood on his hands, streaming from the gashes on Eponine's knuckles. "What did you do?" he asked her firmly.

Eponine looked at her hands. "Anything to keep him from knocking me down. His leg is fine, he was fine or well, better than I was in the end, and he won't have anything to do with me anymore. He said so when I fell down at last." 

Enjolras quickly put a napkin over Eponine's bloodied hands. "Of all things..." he said disapprovingly as Joly quit the room to look for something to bandage Eponine's injuries with. "As if politics wasn't bad enough for you..."

"She's nearly as quick to the flames as I am," Bahorel mused. "Well and good for you that you know how to fight, Eponine. You'll have quite a time keeping Enjolras in line."

"Now is not the time for joking, Bahorel!" Enjolras said sharply.

Eponine wound the napkin around her bleeding fist. "It will take some time to heal," she whispered, looking at Enjolras gravely. "But I promise, this will be the last time it will happen."

"If Grantaire were here, he would say that your father is of the incorrigible species," Joly said, returning with water and some bandages.

"Even someone like him can reform." Enjolras said. "Given time."

"Your faith in humanity is astounding," Courfeyrac said.

Enjolras glanced at Eponine and then at his friends. "Without it, why do we even fight then? If we are to settle for the so-called fact that the human condition is subject to misery, then why do we bother with good governance? It is part of our duty to overcome our dram of evil to reach the sublime."

Just then, the door opened and Gavroche and Navet came racing in. "News from the Rue del Lamarque!" Gavroche said breathlessly. "From Citizen Feuilly!"

"Never a moment to be wasted with that man," Joly said, looking up from bandaging Eponine's hand. 

"You're being looked for, Citizen Enjolras. Some matter of importance. Delegations. Conventions. Meetings." Navet said. 

"You ran in this weather?" Eponine asked the youngsters with disbelief.

"Horses refuse to trot," Gavroche said to his sister.

Enjolras took a few francs out of his waistcoat to pay for the meal and left the coins on the table. "Not a moment to lose then. Are any of you coming with me?" 

"For lack of anything better to do at the moment..." Bahorel grinned, glancing at Bossuet.

Joly, who'd finished bandaging Eponine's hands, said something about 'making matters up to Musichetta'. Jehan nodded to Courfeyrac. "We'll stay here to eat a bit, then we'll follow," Courfeyrac said.

Enjolras gave them a long-suffering look. "The temporal needs are great, I see?" he said ruefully.

"Enjolras..." Eponine said, seizing his wrist.

Enjolras helped her out of her chair. "You need not follow me this time."

"You know where my place is." Eponine said, raising her chin. 

Enjolras settled for kissing her forehead. "We'll speak more about this later, Eponine," he said as he put on his coat and headed out the door.

Eponine sighed. "I'd go now if I didn't have things to do at home," she said, inspecting her bandages.

Courfeyrac and Jehan exchanged looks. "His Patria before anyone else." Jehan said sadly. "You have it hard, Eponine."

Eponine nodded. "I know. He's not quite mine, but I can stand by him, can't I?" she said, picking up her shawl. "I'd better get more of my chores done if I want to be sure of things. I'll see you all at the Rue del Lamarque," she said, heading out the door.


	80. Homo and Vir

**Homo and Vir**

Two hours later, Azelma peered out the window of Number 28. "The rain has stopped!" she called to her sister as she stepped over Jacques and Neville, who were busy playing with marbles on the floor.

"And good!" Eponine grinned, throwing down a rag she'd been using to clean the tabletop. "I'd really better go now, even if just to see what Gavroche has been up to." 

Azelma rolled her eyes. "If you see Jehan, remind him that he's supposed to meet me tomorrow."

"_Oui_, Azelma. But I'm sure he won't forget in any case," Eponine said, donning her hat and wrapping her shawl around her shoulders again. She rushed downstairs and out into the street, splashing her boots as she stepped into puddles and mud. She had no time to be dainty.

As she ran, she almost did not notice the lancer walking in the opposite direction.

"_Bonjour!_ You look well, Eponine," Theodule greeted gallantly as she ran right by him.

Eponine stopped quickly. "_Salut_," she said laconically, not even looking at him. "Where are you going?"

"The barracks," Theodule said. "My regiment is to be stationed in Calais beginning next week. We are packing up tonight to travel tomorrow."

"Oh." Eponine said, looking at him over her shoulder. "Have a safe trip then."

Theodule looked her over with a rather amused smile on his face. "I never thanked you for helping me out of trouble two months ago."

Now Eponine turned around to look at him properly. Her hands balled up into fists. "You caused me so much trouble," she said. A harsh, almost bitter fury filled her voice and even her wide-eyed gaze.

"I wasn't thinking rightly then. I apologize for it." Theodule said, stepping forward.

"You irritate me." Eponine said, crossing her arms.

"Why so?" 

"Do you not know?"

Theodule shook his head. "You've changed. You're not the girl I talked to before I went to Vernon all those months ago."

Eponine drew herself up to her full height. Now, her voice was calm, and a little bit whimsical at the same time. "I'm older now. And wiser, I hope. I know who to look for, and not to look for. It's queer that it took me so long to figure it out. Parnasse couldn't do it for me, nor could Marius. You wouldn't. And Enjolras keeps telling me to think for myself, so I did just that some time ago. And I know a bit better, really."

Theodule shrugged. "You're prettier now." 

"Ah only now he looks when I dress better," Eponine mumbled, turning to continue on her way.

"Eponine, listen to me," Theodule said. "I know you don't think too well of me, but I do not want to leave Paris without doing my Christian duty of asking your forgiveness. Enjolras...I talked to him after you left, and he said it was my own affair to discuss with you."

Eponine looked back at him, and then nodded slowly. "You know...I liked you once. So long ago," she murmured, looking up at the sky and back at him.

"You could come with me."

"Not anymore, Theodule. You go your own way, I go mine. We shan't bother each other, unless it's only for a cup of tea or something. No, not the way we used to. Now, _au revoir_."

Theodule sighed. "_Au revoir_, Eponine," he said, walking away. Without missing a beat, Eponine continued running as if nothing had happened.

As Eponine sprinted down the street, she looked down at her hands, which were bleeding again under the bandages. "_Dieu_, when will it stop?" she said, slowing down to a walk. She knew her wounds would leave more scars. "As if I didn't already have enough of those. Maman, this isn't what you wanted for me..."

She pressed the bandages around her hands, hoping to make the bleeding stop. "It's too far to Joly's house. Perhaps I should go back and see if Combeferre is awake," she wondered. "Is the convention done by now? Maybe so. Maybe Combeferre is at the Rue del Lamarque already; he's not afraid of the rain like I am." 

After some time, she arrived at the Rue del Lamarque just when people were filing out of the convention hall. "Missed it!" she exclaimed indignantly as she continued walking. She frowned at the crimson spatters on her shawl and her dress. "I'd better wash these myself."

"Good heavens, Eponine! What happened to you?" she heard Jehan say from her left. Eponine turned in time to see Combeferre, Enjolras, and Jehan walking up to her.

"It won't stop!" Eponine whispered fearfully, holding out her hands. She quickly sat down on the steps of the building. "Just look at them!"

"You'd better keep your hands straight from now on," Combeferre advised, peeking under the bandages. "Wait here. Enjolras, make sure that she does not move about much. It's already a mess as it is here," he instructed before going next door to find some clean cloth.

"By the way, Gavroche and Navet have gone to lunch with Grantaire, Bahorel, and Feuilly. Did you know that Navet's been living with Feuilly for some days now?" Jehan said to Eponine.

Eponine shook her head. "What happened here today?" she asked Enjolras.

"An emergency meeting on certain provisions." Enjolras replied. He was obviously excited, judging by the light in his eyes. It seemed as if only his somber dignity kept him from reacting any more exuberantly.

"On what?" Eponine asked.

"There is to be a tour of the schools to see to the system. There was the petition of the workers' groups...it seems as if there will not be much trouble getting people to support the new rules on wages. "

"Not a day for rest with everyone around. And yet God made the Sabbath," Jehan said. "Feuilly is leaving for Boulougne for a week to help with the treaty. So Navet will be staying with the Grantaires."

Eponine winced as she tried to keep her hands off her clothes or those of her friends. "You know, I talked to that lancer before I got here," she said. "Well, he's going to Calais. I won't see him, which is good. Nothing for you or me to quarrel about, Enjolras. Not like before. You didn't want to speak to me at first."

Enjolras smiled at her briefly. "We did make our peace on that matter, didn't we?" he asked.

"I just wanted you to know that it will all come out right," Eponine shrugged. "You deserve to."

Now, Combeferre returned with clean strips of cloth and two slender sticks the length of a hand. He surveyed Eponine's hands critically as he removed the bloodied bandages. "I know Joly did not want to have to splint your hands, but in this case, it might be necessary, or you will keep on having your wounds opening up over and over again."

"How am I supposed to work then?" Eponine asked, wincing as Combeferre wrapped an end of cloth around her right hand. "I can't stitch books with a stick against my palm!"

Enjolras looked at Combeferre. "She's right. There has to be some other way," he said grimly.

"There is no other way. Maybe if the wounds heal up a bit by tomorrow, but there's no telling how well they will hold," Combeferre said. "You will just have to take it one day at a time, Eponine."

"Oh all the trouble. Isn't it queer that you know how fast some things will happen, but you can never tell where people are going or how they'll speak about some things?" Eponine asked.

"Perhaps one day, Science will explain some of those things." Combeferre said as he began working on bandaging Eponine's left hand.

"Some, but not all. There is something that cannot be captured in the will and the integrity that makes all men equal." Enjolras said.

"I thought you disliked enigmas." Combeferre said.

"Only those that are a false light to hide what is true." Enjolras pointed out.

"So is Love an enigma then, Enjolras?" Jehan asked slowly, as if he had been trying to get up the nerve to ask this question.

"No. Not in its many senses, but it only seems as such when used to further one's own agenda." Enjolras replied.

Eponine stared at them as if trying to put together everything that had been said so far. "Why do I get the feeling that we are not speaking of the same thing, yet seeming to make perfect sense?" she asked as Combeferre finished tying off the bandage.

"Somehow, truth seems to be evasive here," Enjolras said as he helped her up. He handed her his coat to cover the bloodstains on her clothes.

Eponine sighed as she pulled the garment over her stained dress. "You are quite sure? It's broad daylight..."

"At any rate, it doesn't matter," Jehan said, catching a raindrop on his palm. They all headed back inside the building as the rain began to fall once again. 

Enjolras looked ruefully out the door before shutting it. "Now unless you're in a hurry, we might be here the entire afternoon."

Eponine laughed as she looked at the raindrops glistening in her hair. "Enjolras?" she asked, tapping his shoulder lightly.

"What?"

"See, you're smiling and you talk so nicely to me. You never used to do that."

Enjolras looked her in the eye. "One can always learn a new thing."

Combeferre nodded knowingly. "_Homo_ sometimes wins out over _Vir_."


	81. To Speak of Changes in the Wind

**To Speak of Changes in the Wind**

The knock on the parlor door was enough to break Cosette's concentration as she tried to sew a stubborn ruffle to a small garment. This was her way of passing time whenever she waited for visitors. "Come in," she said as calmly as she could while she threaded the needle.

"Oh, you're busy. Perhaps I'll come again later?" Eponine said, sounding embarrassed. She had on her hat, having just walked in the early May sunshine. "It shouldn't be much trouble, I left what I was supposed to leave for Marius, but I thought it would be nice to see a friend or two."

Cosette smiled at her friend. "You're here already, and there's no good in turning you away."

"Ah good," Eponine replied, lacing her fingers together. Her hands were out of the bandages now, and most of the wounds had closed over. "It was so much trouble at first, you know. But never mind. Everyone knows of it. But what of you and Marius? How've you been?" 

"Well enough." Cosette said. "Marius is at the Palais de Justice. You know him; he still insists on doing work, even if Grandfather tells him that he has no need for it. My father is well too, and he keeps on bringing me all kinds of books, just as before when I was so small."

Eponine sighed. "Cosette, you're as old as I am, aren't you?"

"You're turning eighteen in the summer. I'm already eighteen," Cosette replied. "Why do you ask?"

Eponine shrugged. "It's strange how different it all became for you, for my family, for everyone. I used to be terrible when I was so small. You, I don't know why you never tried to run away."

Cosette giggled. "For years, your inn was the only place I knew."

Eponine looked down at her hands, then back at Cosette. "But well, this is how it is: you're pretty, rich, married, with a child on the way, happy, with all you could ever want.; a papa who loves you, a husband who'd give you the world if you asked. Me? I'm poor, still living with my siblings, and still working."

"You have friends," Cosette pointed out. "And you're in love as well. That's one dream that did come true."

The younger girl reddened slightly. "Only after going through all of Pantin, a barricade, and Lord knows what else!" she laughed. "Somehow, it balances all out. You had the hard time when we were small. Now it's my turn. God hasn't finished with me, I think"

"I don't know, Eponine," Cosette said. "I think God is good in more ways than you think. "

"Maybe," Eponine mused quietly as the parlor door opened and Jean Valjean walked in silently.

Cosette stood up. "Papa!" she greeted. 

Jean Valjean smiled at her warmly. "Good morning, Cosette."

Cosette crossed the room and took his arm. "Do sit with us a while. Eponine and I were just talking a bit." 

Eponine smoothed down her skirt as she stood up in turn. "Actually, I have to go someplace, Cosette. Today's the only day I can go and buy the things I need," she said, attempting a curtsy. "_Au revoir_."

"Take care of yourself!" Cosette called after Eponine as the latter hurried out of the room.

Jean Valjean shook his head sadly. "Poor girl. It's one misfortune after another for her and her family. She is doing better now, isn't she?"

"With a lot of help," Cosette said. "She does what she could, and it's not easy for her. Sometimes, Marius and I wonder what more could anyone do for her, but she has to learn...she is learning, I'd like to think that. You can't really learn to live in a year or less."

"But you can learn to write love letters in two months," Jean Valjean said, eliciting a laugh from his daughter.

Elsewhere, Enjolras found himself counting out what money he had. "There's just enough for one candle," he said to himself as he went down to the market near the Halles.

As he wove his way through the crowds, politely acknowledging any who chanced to greet him, he felt someone grab his hand, then bump right into him, thus nearly knocking him over.

"That's enough of that, Eponine," he said, shaking off the young woman's grip on his arm.

"I almost fell! No, really!" Eponine protested, managing to regain her balance. "Come now, don't look at me that way," she cajoled.

Enjolras glanced at her. "Well then, what brings you here?" he asked more amiably.

"Buying a candle to read by." Eponine said. "And you?"

"The same thing. I have work to do," Enjolras replied. "Since I'll be up all Saturday evening, I cannot stay at the Palais de Justice or the Rue del Lamarque to finish all I need to finish." 

"It seems that when Feuilly returned, he brought more work with him than he wanted," Eponine said, cocking her head to the side. "Enjolras, would you mind if I just sat in your flat to read a little?"

"It's still Shakespeare?" Enjolras asked.

"Ah, _non_. You ever read 'Romeo and Juliet'?"

"I never cared for that play, even when Jehan tried to get me interested in it some years ago." 

"It's impossibly romantic."

"More like foolish. You know how it ends?" Enjolras asked critically. 

Eponine bit her lip. "They died, didn't they? I don't know how Juliet could even stand it for a minute."

"Yes, died for something rather passing," Enjolras replied. "Where's the future in that?"

Eponine gave him a crooked smile by way of a reply. "So do I still get to share that candle a bit?" she asked, standing on tiptoe.

"_Oui_. Just don't disturb Combeferre when he comes back to read or perhaps get a little rest."

"You're a funny one, Enjolras. You never think of yourself much."

"I have other things to worry about."

"Like me?"

"Well, you've managed better in the last month or so, even with those hands of yours, but still," the young statesman replied before trailing off as if what he was to say next would be too awkward. "Still, I like knowing that you're doing better."

"You and Combeferre teach me well enough," Eponine said, holding up her hands. "See, they haven't stolen anything in the longest time."

Enjolras touched her hand chastely. "I haven't met anyone who could continue to be so astonishing." 

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

Enjolras was about to say something to this when suddenly, he heard a shout from up in the crowd. "Enjolras! There you are!" Bossuet called. He was with a young woman, who Enjolras recognized as his cousin Claire.

"Cousin, what are you doing here?" Claire greeted. "And with Eponine? So the rumors are true..." 

Enjolras fought to keep a straight face as Eponine muffled her own giggles. "When did you arrive in Paris, Claire?" he asked.

"Oh, yesterday. Crispin here was kind enough to meet me this morning," Claire said.

"You met her father?" Eponine asked Bossuet.

Bossuet shook his head. "She slipped out of her house. We met on the street," he said sheepishly. "Then we decided to go for a little trip." 

"It must be urgent business indeed to bring you both here. Uncle would die if he saw you in Les Halles, Claire," Enjolras replied.

"Actually, no. We just wanted to see you," Claire said. "Is it fashionable to be here with all of these people?"

"This is _life_," Enjolras said pointedly. "What you sometimes watch from afar is the reality for many."

Claire furrowed her brow. "A good thing then," she said in what was meant to be a haughty tone, but only sounded hurt.

Bossuet put a hand on Enjolras' shoulder. "You need to be a little less harsh, _mon ami_. She is family to you..."

"Antoine," Claire began. "I know Uncle Louis disowned you, but you're still Aunt Monique's boy, and therefore still my cousin."

Enjolras looked down, not quite willing to meet Claire's eyes, or even those of Bossuet and Eponine. "Still, there are some things that can never be reconciled. Not everyone accepts so easily," he said at last. "My apologies, Claire," he added, now looking at his cousin and his friends.

"No harm done," Claire said. "You were always a little difficult to deal with, but no worse than my sisters."

"Now that is harsh," Bossuet pointed out.

"It's become worse as of late. People saying it's the Parisian influence.' Claire shrugged. "But it's good to keep up with the times even when those two sillies of sisters insist on being so backward!"

"Now all the more things will be difficult. There's the evil genius," Bossuet said resignedly.

"My mother accuses me and Bossuet of turning her into a Republican," Enjolras explained to Eponine in an undertone.

"You managed that?" Eponine laughed. "You got her to understand?"

"Actually, it is a surprise, even for me. You are right about that." Enjolras said. "Is there anything wrong with it?"

Eponine settled for smiling at him and kissing his cheek. "Now how can anyone not listen to you even just once?" she said softly.


	82. Promissory: I

**Promissory: I**

"What time is it, _mon ami?"_

"I don't know. Probably about past eleven."

Enjolras turned back to reading the badly transcribed case in front of him. He rubbed his eyes as he tried to make sense of the illegible handwriting that snaked over the paper. Across the table, Combeferre was engrossed in writing an article for a small publication. Eponine was also there, poring over one of Gavroche's schoolbooks. They'd been reading or studying for some hours already, only occasionally breaking the comfortable silence with a little conversation.

After a while, Eponine stood up and went to the window. "There are very few lights out," she said, resting her hand on the sill.

"It's very late then. You should go home." Combeferre suggested. 

Eponine shook her head as she went back to her seat. "Everyone is asleep at home. No use waking them up by lighting a candle. And I don't want to stop till I can help Gavroche with his lessons."

"You're trying to tutor him?" Enjolras asked.

"Who else will?" Eponine replied. "Anyway, I like learning things. It's rather strange to be looking at something for the first time to try to understand it, you know. I haven't been to school since I was small, and I haven't read much either till this year."

Combeferre tapped his article. "Education is the redemption of many." He blinked at his writing and yawned. "I don't know about you and Enjolras, but I could use some rest. _Bonne nuit, mes amis_," he said, gathering up his things and going in the next room.

Enjolras looked up as the door shut behind Combeferre. "That's the first time he hasn't warned either of us about the dangers of overexertion," he observed.

"Actually, he's so tired that he forgot his spectacles," Eponine said, pointing to where Combeferre's eyeglasses lay abandoned on the table. She looked at Enjolras quizzically. "I wonder, Antoine, how would you look if you had to wear those?"

"Different," Enjolras replied diffidently.

"You'd still look handsome," Eponine said after a while. "And I'd look like Marius' aunt."

Enjolras shook his head if only to keep from laughing. He'd always had a rather active imagination, after all. "You're too young for that," he simply said.

"But old enough to do things," Eponine retorted. She rested her head on the table's edge. "You know, I can look back on things now and think how I could have done everything over if I knew then what I know now."

"There is no point in regretting." Enjolras said, glancing at her.

She smiled. "Perhaps you're right."

Enjolras turned another page in the folio. After a time, he put the folder down. "Eponine, would you know--" he began before realizing that the girl had fallen asleep over her book. Enjolras reached over to brush away the hair from her face. He planned to wake her up later.

For now though, it was just better for him to let her sleep on. "_Bonne nuit,_, Eponine," he said quietly as he picked up his folio again. He continued reading feverishly till he felt his eyelids grow heavy. Reluctantly, he put down the file and rubbed his eyes. The candle that still flickered on the table was now half-consumed. 

"Has it really been that long?" he wondered. He shut his eyes briefly, intending only to sleep for a short time.   
"Enjolras! Combeferre!"

The doctor groaned as he threw off the blankets and clambered out of bed. He wasn't surprised to see that Enjolras' bed was empty. "He probably went out again," he said as he went back into the front room.

Combeferre shook his head at the sight that greeted him. "The definition of incongruity," he said, quietly walking past the table. He noticed that somehow, Eponine's hand had met Enjolras' while both of them were fast asleep.

"About time you opened the door! We've been standing out here for nearly a quarter of an hour," Grantaire greeted. Marius was with him, looking awkward as usual.

"I had a late night," Combeferre said. "What's the matter?"

Marius shrugged. "Basque is ill. Could you come quick? Cosette is waiting downstairs; we just came back from church."

At the mention of the word 'church', Combeferre retreated back inside the flat. "Eponine, wake up!" he said in an undertone. Though he was pretty much a Deist, he still encouraged his friends to exercise their own beliefs.

"Hmm, whatsagoingon?" 

"No disrespect meant, but you did mean to go to church today?"

Eponine's eyes flew open and she sat up. "Oh no. _Merci_, Combeferre. I think if you hadn't woken me, I'd be here all morning!" she exclaimed. She glanced over to where Enjolras was still dozing. "Think I should..."

"He should learn to fall asleep in the right place at the right time. Go ahead," Combeferre said.

Outside, Grantaire burst out chuckling, while Marius only reddened. "This is interesting," Grantaire said.

"Do I even _want_ to know this?" Marius cringed.

Heedless of this, Eponine stood up and went over to Enjolras' chair. "Antoine? Enjolras, _mon cher_, it's morning already," she said in his ear.

Enjolras stirred and opened his eyes. "Already?" he repeated, a drowsy smile forming on his usually serious face.

Eponine nodded. "And Marius and Grantaire are outside."

"Of all the citizens in Paris..." Enjolras muttered as he stood up. He ran a hand through his hair and smoothed down his clothes. 

Eponine laughed as she reached over to straighten out his collar. "You're sometimes so hopeless," she grinned, reaching up to kiss him lightly. "Now I'd better go," she said, heading out the door.

"Ah...Eponine?" Marius said uneasily as the girl pushed past him.

Eponine smiled at him and Grantaire. "Good morning, _mes amis_," she said. "How was your day...no wait, tell me later, I'm on the run," she said before hurrying down the stairs and into the street.

"She'll be back in an hour or so. She forgot her book." Combeferre noted, grabbing his coat. "Lead the way, Marius. I'll see you all later," he said, going out the door with Marius in tow.

Grantaire eyed Enjolras with an air of amusement. "Seems as if something is changing?"

Enjolras gave him an irritated look. "It's possible to take more than one thing seriously, you know. Though in your case..."

"One drink of absinthe and the rest of the evening with my wife. There, that's all taken care of. I sail to Troy without sacrificing Iphigenia," Grantaire grinned.

"What are you here for?" Enjolras asked.

"I was just accompanying poor Pontmercy," Grantaire said. "That boy sometimes still looks as if he'll drop at the slightest shock."

"He's a year younger than Jehan, after all," Enjolras pointed out. 

"Yet the one who's been married the longest, and hasn't disappointed his parents," Grantaire rejoinded. "Someone with an actual plan for his future."

"We all have plans for the future," Enjolras said.

Grantaire laughed. "You said 'the'. What about 'yours'?"

Not surprisingly, Enjolras remained silent. "I'd better give that some thought," he was heard to mutter as he went out the door, not even looking at Grantaire. The drunkard watched him go with a slight smile on his face.

"He knows when I'm right," he said before going down to look for more company.


	83. Look Down, Look Up

**Look Down, Look Up**

"You think God likes gamins to come here sometimes?" 

Eponine couldn't help but wonder to herself as she noticed each week how boldly the gamins, ragpickers and other wretched of the street ventured into the church to hear mass. When she was still living on the streets, she rarely did this, unless it was just to beg for money or deliver messages.

"God is more merciful than man, my child," an old man said as he went by to light a small candle in front of a cross.

"He takes awful long to answer sometimes," Eponine said to this man, Jean Valjean. "Sometimes people pray under the bridges, asking for bread. They die not long after, so where's the answer in that?"

Valjean smiled at Eponine serenely. "His ways are not our own. Sometimes how He acts is better than you think. He knows better what to do with us, who are not given to know what tomorrow brings."

Eponine sighed. "How do you take it? You were in the jug for nineteen years! You could have just forgotten, but no, you pray, you take care of children, you save lives! I've seen the jug, Citizen Valjean. And it's not happy. How could you think God was so good to you even then?"

"It was what happened after," Valjean replied enigmatically, as if recalling some distant memory.

The girl nodded, not quite understanding his words."Maybe I'll think different when I'm older," she said, quickly crossing herself before heading out of the church.

Outside, people milled about, talking to one another. Eponine realized there were fewer boys who looked like gamins, and more who were better-fed and clothed than she remembered them last. "To think that last year, all these people didn't notice, didn't care..." she muttered. "Last year, everyone hated me..."

She paused as if coming upon some realization. "Someone must have helped him too, like how I was helped," she whispered before crossing the street to where her siblings were seated, biting into small cakes.

"Is it time to go yet?" Gavroche asked her.

"_Oui_. I have to help you with your studying for your exams." Eponine said. 

Gavroche made a face. "When I get to as old as you are, I want to be free from books. I shan't take up Law or Medicine." 

"Then what will you do?" Azelma asked as they began walking.

Gavroche grinned. "Find some way to build a big house and get real rich. It shan't all go to me though, but to others. No use wasting when one is bloated!"

"I want to be a soldier one day. It sounds like fun," Neville piped up. "Or if not, a teacher."

"Me? A writer!" Jacques said, throwing out his arms as if to take in the day.

"Oh how these three dream!" Azelma sighed. "Well then, if Jehan and I get married, that will do well for me. We shall have a big house, maybe with his parents in Bordeaux, but we're talking of living here in Paris."

Eponine slowed down to let her siblings catch up with her. "You'll all be fine young men, and Azelma a great lady," she said. "It's more possible than it was last year when we were _all_ on the streets. Me? I don't know if I'll be rich, but am I happy now!"

"You were always the easiest to please," Azelma said.

Eponine readjusted her hat. "Of the things I wanted to do: go to school, see all of Europe, have a fine house, go dancing, write a book, I don't know if I'll ever really get any of them. But school takes care of itself. We had an education, and we are getting educated even if strangely. I've seen the diplomats. We live in a good room that doesn't leak, and I've seen nice houses. I've been to a ball, even if we didn't stay long. I bind books. If even what Enjolras and Jehan dream about does come true, surely what I hope for can happen too, even one far-off day."

Azelma smiled wryly at her sister's logic. She grabbed Eponine's arm. "Look who's a-coming..."

Eponine stood up. "It's Marius' aunt," she giggled, remembering her little joke with Enjolras the evening before.

"And alone. My, did she ever grow up in a convent like Cosette did?" Azelma asked.

Eponine shook her head. "If she did, she'd be happy and pleasant like Cosette. No, I think she rarely left home. Poor woman, look how frightened she is."

Before Azelma and Gavroche could stop her, Eponine had crossed the street again. "Good morning Citizenness," she greeted.

The aging woman nearly jumped. She gave Eponine a soft smile. "Ah, so it's you, little girl. Walking out without your young man?"

_"She's just as bad as Maman with romances,"_ Eponine realized. "I woke up early, Citizeness," she said confidently, deciding that this was better than the unadulterated truth: she'd woken up rather late, and that Enjolras hardly ever went to church unless under pain of extreme obligation.

Citizenness Gillenormand smoothed down her thick dressfront. "You should be more careful. There are frightful people about," she said as she swept into the church almost overwhelmed by a flurry of cloth and petticoats.

"I used to be one of them!" Eponine called after the old maiden. Shaking her head, she hurried back across the street.

"Some moral improvement indeed!" Gavroche laughed. "See, there's the freedom of the press."

"You didn't tell her why you go to church with just us?" Jacques asked.

Eponine shrugged. "I'll go back with you to get the book. Or if it's not on the Rue Richelieu, I'm going to have such a time looking for it. I hope Enjolras is home when we get there. Most likely, he's just finishing up breakfast."

Of course, this guess was rather educated. Only after some rather surreptitious observation and coincidence did Eponine already manage to have a grasp of her friends' habits. In another time, she might have been an ideal candidate for a clerk due to her astute memory.

As the young Thenardiers ran down the street, they occasionally passed other acquaintances: other friends from other revolutionary groups nodded to them, and on a street corner, Gavroche called out to Montparnasse, who was working at a baker's.

"Funny how things seem to sometimes go back and yet not so!" Azelma said to Eponine.

"Am I glad it is," Eponine said. "But if Mama and Papa were still here, would we be so safe?"

"Maybe yes," Azelma said, pointing to herself and her sister. "And maybe not," she added, gesturing to her brothers.

Once on the Rue Richelieu, Eponine ran ahead to find the book in her friends' flat. She didn't have to get far; Enjolras was on his way out for the second time that day when she saw him.

"One hour and fifteen minutes," he remarked, catching sight of her. He handed her the dog-eared volume. "Rather close to the mark."

"I'll be careful next time," Eponine said. "Ah, you're going out? Where to? Another meeting?"

"To my uncle's. It seems as if Claire and Bossuet have had a little trouble." Enjolras winced. "On the Rue St. Marte."

"So the secret is out?"

"Unfortunately. It's rather a waste of time when I have things to do."

"So you are going to work _again_."

"Things cannot wait."

Eponine nodded. "_Bonne chance_." 

Enjolras tipped his hat to her. "Yes, but there is no such thing as luck," he said before turning to go.

Eponine ran back up the street to her own flat and without losing much momentum, pulled up several chairs for herself and her siblings. "There, now we have to get started," she said.

"Are you in a hurry again, Ponine?" Azelma teased.

"No, but I know you are," Eponine shot back. "Go on. Jehan is at the Musain now, most likely."

Scowling, Azelma left the flat, slamming the door shut behind her. Gavroche crossed his arms. "I don't really want to have to take a look."

"It's your exams tomorrow," Eponine snapped. "Oh come now, you _have_ to study even just a little bit!" "_It's probably easier to change from a king to a republic than to change a mind_," she thought as she put down the open book and sat back to think of another way to make her point. It wouldn't be the first time she wished to have her brother's wit or Enjolras' way of intimidation and reasoning.


	84. To Speak Reason, To Speak a Name

**To Speak Reason, To Speak a Name**

At about noon of that Sunday, Enjolras was seen entering a house on the Rue St. Marte. This house was found later to be leased out to the D'Aubain family. For majority of the morning, this place had been the center of attention for several streets, owing to the loud arguments ensuing from within.

Later that same afternoon, Montparnasse stopped by the Rue de la Verrerie for an errand, and was just in time to see Courfeyrac leaving his flat arm in arm with Paulette Vigny. More people began whispering and speculating about how long this particular liaison would last, much to Courfeyrac's chagrin.

Some legislators, among them Enjolras and young Bamatabois, were seen on the Rue Saint-Honore, having an argument with a rather obscure group of people, who later turned out to be some Spanish diplomats. Feuilly, who happened to get dragged into the discussion, found himself in a bind; he hardly knew Spanish. So it came to pass that Jean Prouvaire's little tryst with Azelma was rudely interrupted in the name of diplomacy.

"We aren't merely schoolboys and insurgents anymore. We are citizens of this Republic and therefore we must act in its best interests and do waht we can to uphold its honor and ensure its welfare," Enjolras reasoned with his friends later that evening.

The principal members of Les Amis del'ABC had convened on the Rue de la Verrerie to hear out the more accurate accounts of the day's events. No lady was admitted to this discussion. Passers-by heard snatches of this anything but seditious conversation, and much conjecture was made as a result.

"If it means being so chaste and cold, I doubt we can do it," Grantaire scoffed. "Even you have hot blood in your veins sometimes."

Enjolras crossed his arms at this insinuation. "Even that can be overcome for a greater good," he said. "We must not act selfishly to the detriment of the people close to us, of the people we must work with, of the citizens we count ourselves as part of."

"Rousseau, Rousseau," Grantaire said dismissively. "Try being married, it will do you some good."

Enjolras glared at his friend. "Enough with that, Grantaire. I haven't the time for this sort of foolishness from you."

"What happened anyhow before you went into that meeting? You were at the Rue Saint-Marte?" Feuilly asked Enjolras.

"It is not quite interesting," Enjolras said.

"It got me a bruise," Bossuet scowled. "You tell. My pride is too wounded."

Enjolras sat down and crossed his arms. "Our comrade here was foolhardy enough to court my cousin without asking permission when he knows full well that her father is more vigilant than most. Today, the truth was made known, and my uncle immediately challenged Bossuet the minute he set foot in the door to visit my cousin," he said dryly.

Joly nodded sympathetically at Bossuet. "It was Claire who gave you that bruise?" 

Bossuet groaned. "If only to 'get me to keep quiet'." 

The men burst out laughing. "You are Bossuet of the funeral orations after all," Jean Prouvaire said, clapping Bossuet's back.

"Ah Jehan, you should spend more time away from the university," Bahorel said.

"It's not my fault entirely if I'm not quite finished with my studies," Jean Prouvaire said.

"You know, speaking of foolhardy, have you asked the permission of your mistress' father?" Grantaire asked.

Jehan shook his head. "_Mon ami_, she is not my mistress."

Courfeyrac shook his head. "So you have it serious this time?"

"I believe so." Jehan said. "Enjolras, what of you and Eponine?" 

Enjolras, who'd been thinking of something rather lofty, was nearly caught off-guard with this statement. "What then?" he asked.

"You know..." Courfeyrac began, obviously sensing that this was a delicate subject matter. "I mean, Grantaire and Marius saw you both this morning..."

"She's not living with me. She's not my mistress," Enjolras said curtly.

"Still Patria then?" Bossuet asked. 

Enjolras nodded quietly. "She will always be worth fighting for," he said sitting back. "More than anything else."  
The next day dawned brightly.

"Now you be good at school. Do well in your exams, and I'll see you three soon," Eponine said to her brothers as she saw them off at the schoolhouse gate.

"Two more days, and it will be vacation," Neville said to Gavroche excitedly.

"Are we going out of Paris? Some of my friends are!" Jacques asked, grabbing Eponine's skirt.

"Maybe for a few days," Eponine said, not wanting to make any promises.

Jacques cheered. "Hooray! Did you hear that, _mes amis_?" he called to some friends of his. "We're going someplace!" 

"She said 'maybe', not 'will'!" an older boy sneered.

"Don't listen to them," Eponine said to the small boy. "Listen to your lessons."

Jacques nodded. "I will, Ponine," he said quietly.

Eponine straightened up. "Now _au revoir_. I'm late for work," she said, turning to go. Gavroche smiled, while Neville and Jacques waved.

It wasn't far off to where she was now working, near the Rue del Lamarque. Still, Eponine broke into a run, not wishing to miss a minute. On her way, she heard someone cry out.

An old lady, a bourgeoisie woman judging by her dress, had just broken her boot in the street. "Now what am I to do?" the woman shrieked.

Eponine came forward. "Citizeness, may I help?" she asked.

The lady glared at her. "Who do you think you are, guttersnipe? I've seen your face, a con's daughter who goes about with the men!"

Eponine, drew back, feeling as if she'd been slapped and the entire street was staring. If she had a mirror, she would have laughed to see herself grow pale. As it was though, she merely drew herself up to her full height and dusted off her dress.

"Citizeness, know I have a name," she said calmly.

"Which is?" the dowager snapped. "Miss Nobody?"

The working girl smiled proudly, no shame visible on her tanned face. "Eponine Thenardier."


	85. Promissory: II

**Promissory: II**

"The good times are coming."

"One month of festivities! That's something grand. From June 6 to the fourteenth of July, just think of it."

"I wonder how long these tricolor rosettes will last," Musichetta said, holding up her handiwork. "Make sure to tie off the ends nicely, Eponine."

The younger girl looked at the finished rosettes that she'd gathered in her skirt. "Marius' grandfather wants a whole dozen of these. Whatever for?" she asked, looking around the street. The two women were seated on the stoop of a small shop, taking advantage of the late afternoon sun and the warm late spring wind. May was drawing to a close.

"To look festive, what else?" Musichetta said. "You know how these bourgeoisie are, always fond of grandeur. Much like that lady you told me about. I can't believe you were so impertinent!" 

Eponine made a face. "Well, nothing so wrong with saying my name," she said, tying off a last rosette with a stout thread. "That old witch. She caused quite a scandal for that day!"

"I hear that Bossuet's attachment is now news for the public?" Musichetta giggled.

Eponine rolled her eyes. "That's what happens when he goes wooing in secret. Well, no shame being from Meaux, and an eagle as well. Claire understands perfectly."

"I don't hear wedding bells too soon though," Musichetta said resignedly. "Are you finished with all the ribbon?"

Eponine nodded. "Well then, there's three dozen for you, two dozen for me," she said, dividing the finished rosettes.

"I heard some of the legislators talking of the rule of Napoleon, Louis XVIII, Charles X, and Louis-Philippe as if it was all nothing much more than a rude interruption of the Republic." Musichetta remarked. "Patrice is more scientific about it though; he speaks of it as a certain shock that nature is prone to."

"While Enjolras is of that first group," Eponine laughed. "He's such an exasperating man, but he's ah, indescribable. Well then, I'll see you later, _mon amie_," she said, placing the rosettes in her satchel, which was already almost full with streamers.

Musichetta gave her a knowing smile. "Enjoy the day. It's spring after all," she said, retreating into the shop. Eponine sighed before running off towards the Rue des Filles du Calvaire.

When she arrived at the gate of Number Six, she shook her head as she looked up at the house . "Marius, Basque, what are you doing?" she called to the men who were leaning out the window.

"Decking the house," Marius replied. "As my grandfather instructed." 

"I brought some streamers if he likes," Eponine said. "I'd come up if I could, but I'm in a hurry, so I'll leave them downstairs."

"Don't speak too loud!" Marius said in an undertone. "He'll hear you, then where will we be?"

Eponine nodded at this rather tact refusal. "After all, the house looks pretty enough," she said, noticing the garland the men were trying to hang. "Did Cosette make that pretty little string?"

"Yes." Marius said. "How she ever found the time, I don't know."

"Ah, we girls are as busy as you are!" Eponine said before retreating into the shadows. Luc-Esprit Gillenormand had just arrived in the parlor.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed Eponine's arm. "You..." a hoarse voice greeted.

Eponine's eyes widened. "Magnon?" 

Magnon nodded in the dark. "_Oui_. You have to help me."

"What for? No schemes?"

"Oh, just to ask, to ask a bit about a job or anything. Goodness girl, you snatched the bread out of my mouth."

"Where's Mamselle Miss?"

"Left town for a few days." 

Eponine nodded. "I know places."

"Will it be easy?" Magnon asked craftily.

"Well, it is a job. Work, actually." Eponine said.

Magnon shook her head. "I'll consider it all the same," she frowned, as she slipped back into the shadows. With a shudder, Eponine stepped back out into the light and hurried on towards home.  
Just after the sun set, Navet found himself on the Rue Richelieu. 

"Wonder where Gavroche is," the young boy said aloud, kicking a pebble. He'd managed to gain free run of the city while Feuilly was at work. Unlike Gavroche and the other young Thenardiers, Navet did not go to school. This meant he'd have to enroll for the next school year and be a year back than he'd hoped. 

Still, if it meant bread, it didn't matter. Navet hummed a tune while he leaned against a lampost.

"Ahoy there, boy," Courfeyrac greeted, walking up. Enjolras and Feuilly were with him.

"And _bonjour_ Citizen attorney," Navet replied, making a salute to Courfeyrac. "And you two, though I don't know what you're about."

Courferyac and Feuilly laughed merrily while Enjolras merely smiled. "What have you been up to today?" Feuilly asked Navet.

"Kicking rocks..." Navet said, glancing to a midden he'd created across the road. "And other rubbish."

Just then, Gavroche came out of his flat. His hair was wet, having just come from a good wash not an hour before. "_Mes amis_, the office is closed," he said, looking at the sky. "And hello there good partner," he said to Navet.

"I had such a good time today annoying the washerwomen," Navet said. "It's a pity you weren't about."

"Ah pooh. The schoolroom is more fun," Gavroche said.

Enjolras glanced at Gavroche. "Of all places to cause mischief, that is one of the least appropriate."

Courfeyrac shook his head. "Enjolras, you always did take lessons too seriously,"

"Why I would if I had the chance to," Feuilly said lightly. 

Courfeyrac shrugged. "I always had boring tutors before coming to Paris. Insisting on the particle and all. Well Gavroche, you are lucky that you have a school and quite a number of people to help you."

Gavroche looked around. "Where's my sister?"

"Eponine? I haven't seen her since yesterday," Enjolras said.

Gavroche nodded. "She'd be happy to know that I have beaten the paper. I'm to advance, what would you know? One step closer to dullness..." 

"Congratulations to you," Enjolras said warmly. "What of your brothers?"

"No word yet." Gavroche said. He glanced past Enjolras at someone walking up the street. "Oh bother, I will have to cry the news again." 

"What news, Vroche?" Eponine asked, coming into sight.

"He's passed his lessons," Courfeyrac announced cheerfully. "You've got quite an intelligent brother, Eponine."

Eponine ruffled Gavroche's hair affectionately. "There, if Papa could hear that! He'd be proud to have a boy such as you," she said with a grin. "Oh, a few more years, and when you go to university, all will be well. Hopefully things will be better by then."

"You'll find some way," Feuilly said by way of encouragement.

"Isn't it always?" Eponine replied. "Ah, I'm used to it." 

Navet crossed his arms. "I prefer having a chance to run about,"

"School is becoming compulsory. One day, you won't have to be a gamin. You're becoming more removed from that state, and this is a good development," Enjolras said sternly. "After this summer, there will be more schools, more teachers..."

"More wages to pay for school?" Courfeyrac asked, eyeing Enjolras critically.

"Yes. Two francs a day, that is the minimum wage under new provision. This will take the place of the former ration of bread," Enjolras said. 

"I did enjoy the free bread though," Eponine said. "But I prefer having more sous in my purse."

"Still for an education," Feuilly remarked.

Navet scratched his head. "It doesn't sound like much fun."

Eponine gave Navet a rap upside the head. "Oh you! If I could go to school too...I used to, once," she said almost enviously. "I'm not like Cosette, studying in the convent and all. I learned on the street and a bit from my parents, that's all. So long ago." 

"You _are_ learning all the same aren't you?" Enjolras asked her.

"I read what I sew," Eponine smiled at him as she took his hand. "Or what you all give me." 

Courfeyrac and Feuilly shook their heads. "Enjolras, you really have forgotten what most people do with flowers and their _amours_," Courfeyrac said.

"Impracticalities," Enjolras replied. "I'd prefer to better other people's lot than to adorn them."

"There is no harm in the latter though," Feuilly pointed out.

"True, but if only to rally the spirits of the people," Enjolras rejoinded.

Soon, these six young people went up to the Thenardiers' flat to continue their discussion. The only sign of them having ever been on the street corner was the singular tricolor rosette pinned to the lampost


	86. June 1, 1833

**June 1, 1833**

"Eponine, you've outdone yourself with this story." 

"_Mon cher,_ would I give you _interesting_ news if I knew it wasn't anything you really had to know about?" 

Enjolras gave Eponine yet another skeptical look. "You tell me every detail of your day."

The working girl stamped her foot exasperatedly. "You usually believe me! Besides, I've been looking up and down for you since ten in the evening yesterday, but you weren't here, weren't at the Palais or the Rue del Lamarque..."

Enjolras crossed his arms as he sat down on the step of the tenement. It was still very early in the morning, and no one else was out on the gaily decorated Rue Richelieu. "I was with the Courgarde last night. Some matters in Aix were requiring deliberation."

Eponine looked at him. "Stories say that he is here on 'official business'. What does that mean?"

"It means well, despite its ambiguity," Enjolras explained. "What I know is this: Louis-Philippereturned to France, incognito. He deliberately timed his arrival with that of the Spanish embassy, since after all, he was hiding in Spain all this while, not in Austria or England as we'd feared. But that he wanted to speak to the legislators, how did you learn that?" he asked. 

"Oh, standing around while printing the early paper." Eponine yawned. "I thought you knew, but I couldn't be sure. Sometimes you do look funny when you are surprised. Look, the sun is rising. Aren't you glad that I woke you up?"

Enjolras looked at his watch. "It's not even six in the morning. What could happen next?" he asked as he smoothed down his coat, which he'd hastily thrown on when he heard Eponine yelling for him at the door.

"Louis-Philippe back in France, a meeting soon, nobles now realizing they're missing the pie, rosettes everywhere..." Eponine said in a sing-song voice. "After this, you should take a few days and go to the country to enjoy time a little bit." 

"I don't need to do that," Enjolras replied. He looked around as if trying to figure out what to do next. "I've got an hour or so to spare," he said at last.

"We can go for a walk," Eponine suggested.

"I was thinking of some reading."

"That too. We can do both."

Enjolras nodded as he got to his feet. "Two minutes," he said, going upstairs to change into better clothes and get whatever he'd need for the day. He'd learned the hard way never to be caught unprepared.

A short while later, he returned to the sight of Eponine humming to herself as she picked off the petals from a last violet she'd found on the road. She smiled at him as he walked towards her. "You know this old game?" she asked.

"A little pointless." Enjolras remarked, offering his arm. "Now, where were you thinking of going?" 

"Not the Luxembourg. But there is a nice garden not far from here," Eponine said. In the pale morning light, they could have easily been taken for any other ordinary couple enjoying a morning rendezvous.

Which was a good thing, at least for the next few hours.  
"What a fine time to disappear! When Louis-Philippe is in Paris?!" Bahorel exploded after Feuilly had given him the news. It was already two in the afternoon.

"Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Grantaire and Joly, need we ask? Jehan has an exam today. Bossuet is running an errand. As for Enjolras, I have no clue where he is, but chances are Eponine is with him," Feuilly said mischievously. "Though as one of the common people's ambassadors, I should not be commenting on that..."

Bahorel laughed. "That boy is shrewder than Don Juan when he wants to be. As successful though, I have my doubts..."

"_Bonjour,_ Citizens," a melodious voice greeted. The two men turned to see Nicholine Montrose-Grantaire, carrying a whole basket of vegetables. "Looking for some friends, I hear?"

"_Oui_," Feuilly said respectfully. "Have you any news of them?" 

Nicholine smiled. "My husband is still asleep. Courfeyrac, I last saw him with his lady some minutes ago. Combeferre, I do not know. Enjolras was going _alone_ to the Rue del Lamarque."

"For that meeting with Louis-Philippe! This we have to see," Bahorel said, half-dragging Feuilly with him.

"Let me go, brute! I was on my way there anyhow!" Feuilly said, trying to walk more dignifiedly. However, soon all pretense to grace was abandoned as the two friends ran to the famously-political avenue.

Sure enough, a sort of crowd had gathered in the street. Some police, among them Inspector Dufour, were waiting with truncheons should any trouble rear its head.

"There is the old fruit," Bahorel said, gesturing to where Louis-Philippe was walking, escorted by several newly-returned nobles and bourgeoisie. "Fancy time to return, when France is draped in the tricolor."

But his words were unheard; Feuilly had slipped into the throng to search for his fellow diplomats. Bahorel watched tensely as Louis-Philippe stood up straight amid the occasional catcalls from the crowd. Someone cheered before his neighbors warned him.

"Citizens of France..." Louis-Philippe began. "It is on this occasion---"

"Someone silence him!" a voice hollered.

"--that I congratulate you for your fortitude amid all these upheavals---"

"Oh good, he's not come to take back the throne?" a wag said within little Navet's earshot.

"I'd rather have lions and the zoo than an old sauce," the boy said by way of reply.

"---we do not come to undo what has happened; we only come for the sake of this nation's unity. It has been nearly a year, a long year since the first cannon was fired. If then, we were suspicious of the people's will and intentions, now we are not. We know you only sought the good. We come to bring back what was good in the old so that it might enrich the new order that has been brought about."

"Oh, someone bring in a guillotine. There has to be an exception," the young impetuous Bamatabois muttered from where he was seated with Enjolras, Combeferre and some others.

"That is asking for too much," Enjolras retorted sharply. "No bloodshed here, or this is all vainglory."

"I thought you hated the man," Eponine pointed out.

"Not the man, but the throne," Enjolras said.

"Is there a difference?" Eponine asked, looking at him

"Very much so." Enjolras replied, motioning for her to be quiet. 

"Much like Grantaire and absinthe?" Eponine said to herself, twiddling her thumbs. Enjolras did not seem to hear this, save for the glance he gave her after she said this.

Louis-Philippe continued his speech. "So we return here, only at the calling of the people, of the need that has arisen for all of us to unite under one banner for the common good..."

"In short, he wants something to do with the government?" Bamatabois said scornfully. "What good can he do?"

"Much, for as long as he is kept in check. There is a reason why there are many and not just one elected to the legislature." Enjolras said. 

"From everywhere, and not just from one place or faction?" Combeferre asked. "To avoid the Terror, I should think?"

"93 had its merits," Enjolras said. 

"And its incompleteness." Combeferre pointed out. 

Enjolras nodded. "Yes, maybe then this will be the right course of action. "

Combeferre smiled. "One year is too short to tell; I wouldn't rest on the laurels yet. Not yet," he said. "But for as long as the people's state will continue to advance, then we cannot be too far off."


	87. Each To His Different Opinions

**Each to Different Opinions, But to One Direction**

Not a minute after the last word of Louis-Philippe's speech left his lips, uproar began to break out.

"What did you come back for?" some harridan shouted. "Down with the old fruit!"

"Yes, bring him away! Throw him out, we have no need for a king," another student bellowed. This started a whole clamor in the street, further fuelled by someone shouting, "And in the provinces, they don't like him either."

Combeferre and Enjolras exchanged worried looks. "Sirs, ladies, come away. It is not safe here," Combeferre said to Louis-Philippe and his party.

"We're billeted at the Rue Saint-Honore," a pale-faced noblewoman said.

"There, we can speak more plainly." Louis-Philippe added

Enjolras made a sign to the police to keep the mob from doing any injury to the nobles or for that matter, to each other. He also glanced towards Feuilly and the diplomats, and the three other legislators of Paris: Bamatabois, Fauchier, and Talbot. "We'll speak with them further there," he explained when Feuilly went up to ask.

Combeferre touched Enjolras' shoulder. "I'll help out matters here. You're needed elsewhere."

Enjolras nodded gratefully. He turned to Eponine, who was observing this entire scene with fear in her eyes. "Go to your work. But be sure to pass round the back of this place," he instructed as he handed her hat to her.

"Later then," Eponine said, clasping his hand before disappearing into the throng. Enjolras then followed the diplomats, legislators, and the _emigres_ towards some fiacres at the end of the road.

"Where is Lafayette? It's he who even we rally behind. He should be here for this meeting," Bamatabois asked as soon as he alighted from the fiacre on the corner of Rue Saint Honore. There was a rather comfortable hotel that had been put up there recently; it was fast becoming a favorite among the bourgeoisie.

Louis-Philippe stiffened. "I spoke to him this morning before coming here. He did not tell me that this adverse reaction was rampant.Even now, men's stares pierce deep"

"You've seen for yourself." Enjolras said as the doorman admitted the entire group.

The doorman swallowed. "Should someone seek Lafayette?"

"_Oui_," Feuilly replied. The doorman went off down the street while Louis-Philippe instructed most of his _emigre_ companions to retire to their rooms save for two of his more trustworthy diplomats. These three sat at one end of a table in one of the front rooms of the hotel. The diplomats of the Republic sat along the middle. Enjolras and the other legislators took the far end.

"Firstly, we'd like to make it clear that no harm is intended to your persons. We are doing your best to ensure your safety, difficult as the situation may be." Fauchier, an old man, spoke up.

"That is understood. Surely, you'd do your best to protect Frenchmen and women from harm," one of the royalist diplomats said.

"Certainly, since you all entered France signing yourselves as 'Citizens'," Enjolras said. "You are not of another country; that is plain for all to see. However, by agreeing to come here as Citizens, you are either submitting to the rule of law as the Republic wields it, or you're attempting some subterfuge that can have dire consequences." 

Louis-Philippe nodded. "I am not here to regain a throne. It has disappeared. Am I to sit on air?" he asked.

"Should it be strong enough---" Bamatabois muttered before his fellow legislators glared at him reprovingly.

Louis-Philippe smiled amusedly. "Well then, I have heard rumors of an attempted counterrevolution. Firstly, I deny, nay, even condemn such acts that may cause such divisions and unrest among the people. Last year was difficult enough, and too much has happened for all citizens to rest easy. If we'd taken action against this Republic sooner, perhaps this would be different. But as we hid, we ran, and let history move, we are no longer in a position to impose against the people."

"So you had nothing to do with the writings and gatherings that you've been hearing about? The Malade Liberte?" Bamatabois asked.

"None whatsoever. I speak for myself though, not for those with me. They are free, even under your laws, to do as they wish."

"So what have all of you returned to France for?" Feuilly asked.

"As I said, to work hand in hand for the good of the people." Louis-Philippe replied. "But if they will not have me, what can be done?"

"Very little, I am afraid," Enjolras said. 

"You are lucky to have the bourgeoisie on your side," the former king said ruefully. "I commend all the reforms you have begun; I wish for them too heartily for the people, but with a little caution. Not everyone moves as fast as you legislators do or are inclined to such quick action. The bourgeoisie, yes, them in particular. I should warn you, you had better keep them happy lest they turn against you and towards where they perceive some form of gain."

"Most of us being born of them, we should know that," Talbot said with a sigh.

"Lafayette is taking some time to come here," one of Louis-Philippe's companions noted. 

"In the meantime, what do you think should be done with regard to this new development?" Feuilly asked. "I heard the reception was particularly hostile at Aix and some of the other Southern towns."

"Had a guard injured there," Louis-Philippe said. "But by God, and by the Republic, I have done nothing wrong!"

Enjolras looked at Louis-Philippe intently. "Yes, you mean well. There is no conflict of interest in that. But for your safety as well as the safety of the people, exile might be best for you."

"Exile? Where?" Louis-Philippe blanched. 

"Austria. England. Or you could return to Spain," another diplomat replied. "There, where we have ties, where our government is recognized as being France's legitimate government, you can remain safely away from reprisals from more extreme factions. You will not be entirely cut off from politics; you will still be able to look on the world."

"And all tradition or even vague reminder stamped out," one of the royalist ambassadors mumbled. "France, you turn your coats quick."

"Or she makes all haste towards that which is true," Enjolras said forcefully.

"You are the youngest of these legislators," Louis-Philippe remarked. 

"What of it, sir?"

"One day, people will look to you as they do to Lafayette. In a few years time, young man, you will have to learn temperance as well."

Enjolras nodded, aware of the gravity of the admonition. "I understand."

It was evening when Enjolras and Feuilly were at last able to leave the Rue Saint-Honore.

"A good man with the expiation of not being able to be such to his people." Feuilly remarked, shaking his head. "Well, there's one trouble done, and another point added to the legitimacy of the Republic. Even its predecessor was humbled."

Enjolras looked up at the twilight sky. "It is timely that the business be over and done with. One year is too long a time to seek an answer to that pressing question. At any rate, it is good that even Lafayette agreed that Louis-Philippe and some of his companions be exiled in England. The rest may either stay or leave as they please, but they must decide soon."

"Perhaps this state of affairs may be permanent."

"You mean exile?"

"No, I mean Republic,"

Enjolras smiled. "For as long as the greater good of the people, for as long as humanity is uplifted and consoled, the Republic will continue, even amid the changes it will inevitably undergo."

"Maybe it will catch on elsewhere?" Feuilly asked lightly. "I can see it returning to Greece. One day, even Poland will have its own constituent assembly."

"You, among us, have one of the widest views," Enjolras said. "Till then, France must wave the tricolor proudly as a beacon in the night that is beginning to retreat from Europe, and all the world."

Feuilly pointed ahead. "There, they wait."

"I knew they would," Enjolras said, walking more quickly to where a small group sat on a bench outside a notary's office. Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Jehan, and the five Thenardier siblings all stood up as the two other men came into sight.

"There! We were wondering if you'd take the whole night at it! What's the news?" Courfeyrac laughed. "So, is it true that Louis-Philippe is to be exiled? There has been much buzzing about it."

Briefly, Feuilly narrated what had transpired on the Rue Saint-Honore. "Where are you all off to after?" he asked.

"To the Musain perhaps for dinner," Combeferre shrugged. "Unless Jehan, you and Azelma are going still to the Cafe Bien?"

"Cafe Bien? It's a good place, even if it lightens the purse very much," Courfeyrac remarked, poking Jehan in the ribs.

Jehan moved away from Courfeyrac. "I'm not the only one dining there tonight. I have classmates who were talking of stopping by. You're all free to join us."

"My apologies, but I have to finish some work," Feuilly said.

"It will be a treat. I'll bring my momes?" Gavroche asked.

"I might go. I've never been there before," Combeferre replied. "You, Courfeyrac?"

"I have a rendezvous to make with Paulette," Courfeyrac said, getting up.

"Are you coming?" Azelma asked Enjolras.

Enjolras shook his head. "I haven't the time or the money for that. Eponine, you could join them if you wish..."

"Ah _non_. Azelma has enough people watching." Eponine shrugged. "Besides, what of you? You alone?" 

"Well then, it's settled then. Enjoy your evening, _mes amis_ before the next days' celebrations age it too far!" Courfeyrac said, walking off. Feuilly followed suit after.

"Will you all be fine?" Eponine asked Azelma.

"Never mind that. In our case, the more the merrier. In your case...I'm not entirely sure of it," Azelma replied, half-shoving her sister. "You see too much of people."

Eponine nodded. "I'm sure you'll have a lovely time," she said to Azelma. She turned to Enjolras. "Where do you go now? Home?"

"Yes, to finish some of the work I'm doing. That question of wages is still pending implementation, but it will have to be defended to the legislature," Enjolras replied as they began walking away in the opposite direction from where their friends were going.

"Look, you'll forget to eat!" Eponine said. "Or I could make dinner for the two of us, if you like. Tell me how I can help you a bit. It's a simple matter, you know, but how important. You recall how we were all once hungry together, and how you felt at the worst of it all."

"No worse than what you felt then." Enjolras pointed out. But he knew that Eponine was right. They had both been making their way out of their poverty; the days in which a lack of rent, food, and care had driven them under the same roof were now something to look back on for a lesson.

Eponine laughed. "But we both are better now. See, I looked at the mirror this morning before I ran to wake you. I like what I saw. No wonder you don't turn away any more when we go together."

Enjolras shook his head. In his mind, Eponine was still far from pretty, but he had to admit that there was a certain whimsical air to her that he was too accustomed to. Besides, he admitted to himself inwardly, he did like some of her sweeter ways. More importantly, she constantly kept him from going too far off in the wrong directions. "I think there is more to it than just that," he said to her.

Eponine looked at him, as if trying to figure out what he meant. "You are quite funny," she said at last. "Now you tell me, what is it that you want for dinner?" 

"Well..."

"That's the first time you haven't made up your mind about anything."

"I'd get to it faster if you'd stop hugging me. Like that."

"Sorry."


	88. Ramifications and Sparks

**Ramifications and Sparks**

Eponine couldn't help but feel a little thrilled as she put down her spoon and looked around Enjolras' flat. "Does it ever get too quiet when Combeferre is out late?" she asked. 

"No, the street has a noise of its own," Enjolras replied after swallowing a mouthful of stew. Their repast was simple: some broth with vegetables, and the ubiquituous bread. On Eponine's insistence, Enjolras had been forced to put away his papers, even for a few minutes just to have dinner. They were seated at the same side of the table.

"It's odd for me to be here. We don't usually dine together without the others," Eponine pointed out. 

"You could have gone to the cafe," Enjolras said. 

"But you know I wouldn't," Eponine grinned. "And if it was me with no money, or with too little time, you wouldn't." 

"Perhaps," the young man said, managing a smile. 

Eponine leaned on her elbow. "I expected you to be...angrier today at what happened with that pear-shaped head of a king returning. "

"I believe in a Republic, but not entirely in the guillotine. I'd do what I'd have to do to uphold its principles, the truth, and justice. The right is absolute, yes, but it must not be tainted with blood or dishonor. All consciences, all beliefs are equal before the law now, and the law holds that life cannot be taken at a mere dissension of an idea," Enjolras said, stirring his soup absent-mindedly. "I disdain murder, but the royalty and all its symbols must be abolished. Hence, exile was the best course."

Eponine nodded. "You've been listening to Combeferre, I see."

"And thinking a good deal." Enjolras said. "I know now that people have a distaste for horror. Even still, they fear blood in the Rue Saint-Honore. I know that you for one, would think less of me, or of our friends if we were to insist on violent action unnecesarily." 

"True," Eponine said with a shudder. She knew that Enjolras was becoming less inclined towards dogma, perhaps as a result of having to deal with so many people of varying opinion. _"But still, he'll fight against kings, tyrants, and oppressors to his last breath..."_.

"So you see, it is possible to make an advancement in thought," Enjolras said, more to himself than to Eponine. "With the revolution succeeding, all of us who had a major part to play in rallying the people had to ask what was next. What kind of France would we have to show to the world? Would we prosper and live on for the future? Would we fail again?"

"For the future," Eponine repeated. "Oh, I remember what you told me, it was all for the new world. It's here, it's coming, isn't it? We're free now."

Enjolras looked at her keenly. "You, Combeferre, Feuilly...all of you, even Marius and Cosette, you did show me what could happen, what could be after the first struggle was won. The ideal, to strive for, some way for men to be happy."

"Antoine, are you ever afraid you'll have to fight again?" Eponine asked quietly. "Barricades...war...I don't want to lose you or anyone."

"One day, that awful way will be banished from the world as well." Enjolras said. "But for as long as men continue to trample one another, for as long as one nation holds sway over a people that is not its own, there will always be a call to arms. Not that I mind in that instance."

"How far away can that be true?" Eponine wondered. "I see how far away countries can hold islands, but didn't France try that once? Well, no wonder why you call Bonaparte 'Buonaparte'..." she said, deliberately exaggerating her pronunciation.

Enjolras smirked at her. "You mock me, Eponine."

"_Mon amour_, you do need to laugh a bit," Eponine said, reaching up to brush Enjolras' golden hair out of his face. "Today, oh you laughed a bit, when we were walking and we heard the cats knocking over things in the park. I like hearing you laugh, almost as much as I like it when you say my name."

Enjolras held both of her hands in his. "It makes me happier to see that you're safe, you're free, you live as you should. You have more courage than you think." 

"Enough to get shot?" Eponine said. "Or to try to help you in politics?"

"To live a good life." Enjolras replied.

"I wasn't always this way," Eponine murmured. "Maybe I wouldn't have gotten here if it hadn't been for revolution, for all that you dared to do. But I know you did everything for something bigger than I can imagine. I want to understand you, but I can't. I want to see what you see, but it's not easy."

"You're looking at the same things, but from a different point of view, I should imagine," Enjolras said. 

Eponine shrugged. Now that she thought about it, she realized that he was right; they'd both been struggling for things they held dear. However, their ways and extents and depths were, and probably would always be different. "But it does not matter to you?" she asked after a time.

"If we all thought in the same way, that would be dreadful," Enjolras said.

"But we go together, do we not?" Eponine said.

"Sometimes." 

"Just sometimes?"

Enjolras could only smile by way of answer.


	89. A Minute Makes Much of a Difference

**In Which a Minute Makes Much of a Difference**

One of the first things that Enjolras usually did upon waking up was to check his watch. "Five-thirty. Perfect," he said to himself as he stretched on the makeshift bed he'd made for himself on the floor. He glanced over towards where Eponine was still fast asleep on his bed, and at where Combeferre was also dozing across the room.

"He must have let himself in awfully late, after I'd fallen asleep," he muttered, chagrin tinting his voice. "_And then again, it's not as if I'm in the habit of talking to Eponine until two in the morning_" he thought. "_I'd gladly take a few more hours of rest, but someone has to make sure that Louis-Philippe and his party are leaving Paris instead of overstaying their welcome in the eyes of the citizenry."_

He quietly readied himself for the day, but just before he could leave the room, he heard Eponine stir.

"Morning already?" the girl murmured drowsily, opening her eyes to look at him. "It's so dark in here."

"It's very early. I have something to attend to, but you can still sleep if you wish." Enjolras said. "Lock the door on your way out later."

Eponine smiled, apparently touched by this consideration. "Thank you for letting me stay."

"Do not expect this to happen more often." Enjolras said.

Eponine rubbed her eyes. "_Je t'aime_," she whispered.

"I'll see you later," Enjolras nodded. as he left the room. Still, he couldn't help feeling somewhat comforted at the knowledge that he'd managed to keep Eponine out of any potential disaster for one evening. _"Even if does invade some of my privacy_."

Enjolras managed to find a fiacre right outside his door. "Rue Saint-Honore, Citizen," he instructed.

"Going to see the pear-head?" the driver remarked.

Enjolras nodded. The driver merely laughed as he cracked the whip. "Do you not know me?"

Enjolras peered at the driver and felt his blood run cold. "Indeed." 

Brujon leered at him. "Surprised?"

Before Enjolras could get out of the fiacre, he found that the coach was surrounded by five men. He recognized Babet and Guelemer in the group. Two women emerged from the shadows.

"Magnon, Mamselle Miss, make it quick," Brujon growled.

Mamselle Miss turned to look at the tenement. "What if the doctor is up?" 

"It shouldn't be too difficult." Babet snapped. "These young men leave everything around. If there's a hussy there too, you know what to do."

Enjolras felt a chill pass through him as he realized what the entire gang was about. He shoved the door of the fiacre open, hitting Guelemer in the face. He leapt out and landed hard on his right leg. He winced, knowing that the impact would leave a bruise on his knee.

"A very nice try, Citizen," Guelemer spat, holding his bleeding nose. "You're going to pay dearly for that!"

Enjolras got to his feet, all the while summing up the situation in his mind. To take them all on was a sure way to end up maimed or at worst, bleeding. To run inside to warn his friends was only courting more disaster. Thinking quickly, he picked up a rock and threw it right into his own window. The rock sailed in and landed with a thud on the floor inside.

"What did you do that for?" Magnon asked him.

"Where did that come from?" Combeferre asked from inside the flat.

The men of Patron-Minette glared at Enjolras vehemently while another masked man grabbed him by his shoulders. "A warning," the young legislator said smugly. 

Upstairs, Combeferre and Eponine peered out the window. "_Bonjour!_ all of you!" Eponine called calmly. "What brings you here, Babet? Have you news of my papa, Guelemer? And ah, Magnon, it is early to be about."

"What is she doing in there?" Mamselle Miss asked Guelemer.

"She's his poulet," Babet said, glancing from Eponine to Enjolras. 

Another window opened downstairs. Aurelia de Vaux put her hands on the sill. "If you're out to cause trouble, they're not alone. Feuilly is in here too," she said.

Enjolras shook his head. "What's this Republic coming to?" he asked, eyes narrowing at everyone who was awake in the vicinity of the tenement. 

"Come now, it's no use. We all know who you are. We see everyone's faces plainly," Combeferre hailed the criminals from upstairs. "Now, the police are still making their rounds." 

"We'll settle them," Babet said, drawing his knife. 

"You're keeping me from an appointment," Enjolras said, getting out of the group's grasp. "Now, if you know what's best for all of you, you will leave this street alone. There are many people here. You'll only be inflicting harm on them, and on yourselves. And tell me where you put the fiacre driver."

"Out under yonder bush," one of the bandits said before the entire group glared at him.

"Trouble here?" the voice of Inspector Dufour boomed.

All of Patron-Minette glared at Brujon. "You said it would be safe!" Magnon howled.

"Ask the innkeeper!' Brujon retorted.

Enjolras crossed his arms. "These citizens almost robbed this tenement building. I suspect they've also manhandled the actual driver of this fiacre." 

Inspector Dufour puffed on a cigar and glanced at the squad of gendarmes behind him. "What would it cost you to have me believe it?"

Enjolras merely smiled. "There. I've caught you by your mouth. Your obstruction of justice by means of asking me to pay you to take in the evidence goes against the law and the Charter."

Now, Combeferre made his appearance in the doorway. "Which bush did you leave him in?" he questioned the bandits.

Guelemer pointed a reluctant finger towards the corner. Combeferre ran towards there and came out hauling the battered body of a man wearing tattered work clothes. "He's gone," the doctor said grimly.

"You're all in trouble," Inspector Dufour snapped at the bandits at the rest of the gendarmes restrained them.

"And you will face the consequences too for your actions, Inspector," Enjolras rejoinded. "By the end of today, I will bring this corrupt means of yours to the attention of Prefect Gisquet. You have till then to examine your conscience."

Eponine by this time had run downstairs. "Are you all right?" she asked Enjolras as she put her hands on his shoulders.

"I'm fine. Now this is not the time for fretting," Enjolras said. He looked at his watch. "It's a quarter to six. I have to go."

"On foot?" Combeferre asked. "Since I'm up and about, I may as well go."

Eponine sighed. "And me, I'll go home?" 

"That would be best. You have a long day ahead of you." Enjolras said.

Eponine rearranged her hair and went off towards her own flat up the street. "Antoine, perhaps I should also tell you to be careful!" she laughed once she was a few paces away.

"I'll heed you this time," Enjolras said affably. He turned to Combeferre. "I'm going to the Rue Saint-Honore."

"Removal?" Combeferre asked. 

Enjolras continued walking, but more quickly than usual. "Well, what else is possible for them? They can only stay shut up for so long before coming to a boil themselves."

The billet at the Rue Saint-Honore was sufficiently empty by the time Enjolras and Combeferre arrived there. Only a few valets lingered to remove some of the heavier trunks. "You missed them by five minutes," a cocky young wag said to Enjolras.

"And a good thing. Carry on as you are, and thank you for your hospitality towards them," Enjolras said.

"Puh! Their stench!" another man muttered. "It lingers."

"At least the wind is blowing more wildly today," Combeferre said. "The hot summer heat should purge the remainder soon enough." 

"Perhaps another long visit to Spain would have the same effect on them," Enjolras remarked.

"Unless they spend all their time hiding in some cloister," Combeferre said lightly, much to everyone's laughter.

"That being one suspicion that is always within consideration," Enjolras muttered disdainfully. "More troublesome than Patron-Minette are useless royals. They both prey on the people in their own ways. One uses knives to procure a living, the other uses excessive taxation, communion, satin, and all forms of flattery."

"All wolves just the same in that aspect," Combeferre shrugged. "To put all men on an equal footing, that seems like a solution." 

Enjolras nodded. "Unfortunately, when wealth and power talk, they are awfully difficult to silence. If people worked for the common good, then there would be no kings."

"You're asking for Utopia."

"We all have a small vision of it. That is the secret goal of every man." Enjolras said. "So we'd all like to believe, that humanity can be uplifted to realize the whole."


	90. The Cleared Out Street

**The Cleared Out Street**

June 5, 1833 dawned like most lovely summer days. 

That day, a holiday was declared even for the schools, factories, and other workplaces all over the country. The atmosphere was festive as people milled about in the streets. Some children hung wreaths of flowers on the street corners alongside the tricolored banners and rosettes that still bedecked the cities and towns. 

"Hurrah! We get to go about today and see everything! Can we go to play with Navet today, Ponine?" Neville asked his oldest sister.

"I don't know where he'll be, but if we find him, you have to stay in my sight," Eponine said, looking around the Rue Saint-Denis as she held little Jacques' hand. "I don't want you getting lost in the crowd."

Azelma rolled her eyes. "You're becoming an old woman. Or you worry too much. If it's not about the boys, it's about me. And if it's not any of us, you worry about Enjolras."

The mention of Enjolras' name made Eponine's cheeks flush crimson. "I care. That's why I want to know what you're all about. It's not good when no one is sure if they're safe or not," she said, fiddling with her sleeve. "You worry about Jehan too."

Azelma rolled her eyes. "You've been teasing me since you came back too early in the morning three days ago. What did you and Enjolras talk about that was so interesting to keep you both awake for so long?"

"Everything," Eponine grinned. "But even when we're quiet, it's still very nice. I love being with him, you know."

Azelma sighed. "Ponine, don't you ever wonder if you're both going to get married? I mean, he's busy with all he has to do, he doesn't make much, and you're just the same."

Eponine looked wistfully towards the crowd. "I love him, you know. I love him so much that though I think it would kill me if he went away, I know I'd live through it somehow," she murmured. She turned back to her sister. "I think he loves me, more quietly."

"You'd better find out, because here he is," Gavroche said, standing on tiptoe.

Eponine looked up to see Enjolras walking towards her. "Good morning to you all," he greeted the entire group warmly. "Jehan, Combeferre, and the others are over at the other side."

"Perhaps I'll join them in a bit," Azelma said. "Now boys, I have a few sous; we can get some sweets at the corner before going to them," she said to her brothers.

"Oh how nice!" Jacques said, letting go of Eponine's hand. "First there!" he shouted, running ahead of his brothers.

"Now don't you go too fast, or the people will shout," Gavroche admonished, tearing after him and Neville. Azelma gave Eponine a knowing look before sauntering off after the young boys.

Eponine threw up her hands with a resigned sigh. "This will keep on happening, you know," she said to Enjolras. "What will you be doing today?"

"I know you do not object to this kind of trick from your sister," Enjolras said. "There is a fete of some sort; rather simple upon the insistence of Lafayette and some of the legislators. We cannot afford extravagance."

"Cannot afford or preferring not to spend too much?" Eponine grinned. They were walking all this while, down the Rue Saint-Denis towards where it met with the Rue de la Chanvrerie.

"Both actually. Governance must be prudent," Enjolras replied. He stopped walking and looked down the Rue de la Chanvrerie. The street was empty but for a few wreaths were strewn on the walk. Tricolor rosettes hung from every window. The front of the wineshop was now repainted and decked with a small bronze plaque under a window.

"Will you be making a speech today?" the girl asked him.

"Yes. I had to prepare for it this time," he said.

Eponine bent down to touch a paving stone. "I remember seeing people carrying these to make the barricade so high," she said. She stepped forward and looked up at the sky. "Was it really that high? If I stood on your shoulders, would we have reached the top of it?"

"Just barely," Enjolras said, an odd smile forming on his face. His eyes gleamed with nostalgia mingled with anticipation. He looked down as Eponine slipped her hand around his.

"One thing...could you tell me what happened when I fell?" Eponine asked. "I don't remember much; it hurt too much. I saw the body of that old man, Mabeuf. I remember you. Marius. Gavroche..." 

Enjolras' look became very far-off. "We carried you into the wineshop. While Combeferre tended to your wounds, Courfeyrac and I went to seek out Jehan. He'd been captured. The National Guard was about to have him executed, when suddenly on this very spot we are standing on, a contingent arrived, bearing the flags and sections from their fauborgs,"

"The National Guard fled?" 

"Not without a fight."

"Then when did Cosette's father come for me?" Eponine asked.

"After everything. It was the evening of the second day. We had been fighting the entire time; Paris was ours, and the towns were following soon after. On the afternoon of that day, Combeferre and Joly realized that the hospital was too full of wounded. We sent some of them home, like Marius. You, we didn't know where you lived," Enjolras replied. "Though in hindsight, that was a good thing." 

Eponine nodded. "I was lucky. I shouldn't have lived, since there was nothing more to come back to" she said dryly. She felt the old pain in her hand begin to throb all over again and she winced. "But now, it's so different. If we were to fight again, I wouldn't want to fall down the way I did. Not without thinking of my family, not without telling you everything..." 

"I wouldn't wait for that moment to tell _you_ what you need to know," Enjolras remarked. "Eponine, you believed in what then?"

Eponine looked at him and put a hand on his arm. "Nothing. Marius, maybe. Death like so many people died, but I wouldn't? Nothing to look up to. Not like you." 

"I was prepared to die then. But to live, that seemed to be so far-off,"

"Somehow, living after did not come easy."

"Indeed it didn't"

Unexpectedly, Eponine threw her arms around Enjolras and buried her face in his shoulder. "I can't thank you enough for everything you did to keep me going on," she said.

Enjolras tentatively stroked her hair and pulled her closer. "It was worth everything," he said in her ear. He felt Eponine nod against him and let out a sigh of contentment. For a few moments, they stayed locked in their embrace, not quite noticed by the other people around them.

From far off, the strains of the _La Marseillaise_ could be heard. Reluctantly, the young couple parted. Enjolras smoothed down his clothes while Eponine retied her hair ribbon. 

"It's almost time," Eponine said with a bemused smile.

Enjolras nodded firmly. "We come when the people call," he said as they went back out into the Rue Saint-Denis.


	91. The Color of the World

**The Color of the World**

Out on the boulevard, Jean Prouvaire, Azelma, Marius, Courfeyrac, and Grantaire made their way through the crowd, searching for a good vantage point.

"Today, we honor all of those who fell. Tomorrow is the actual celebration, because that is the day when victory came at last," Jehan explained to Grantaire and Azelma.

"I went to the Rue de la Chanvrerie today. Cosette wanted to come, but I think that it would have been too much of a strain for her to walk in her condition," Marius said somberely. "Still, I had to lay a wreath there." 

"For Mabeuf?" Courfeyrac asked.

Marius nodded. "He was the one who opened my eyes to what I'd been blind to for most of my life."

Azelma shuddered as she fiddled with the violet flower she'd tucked in her hair. "I don't know what I would do if I had to find flowers for Eponine and Gavroche."

"There, I see them." Grantaire said. "Seems as if they just came from the Rue de la Chanvrerie too."

Courfeyrac quickly waved to Enjolras and Eponine. "Ahoy there!"

The newcomers turned and quickly made their way past a group of laughing bourgeoisie. Eponine blinked when she caught sight of Jehan. "Your coat is _indigo_." 

"I got it from a friend in the theater." Jehan shrugged.

"Yes, and I tried to tell him not to wear it," Azelma laughed.

Just then, Gavroche, Neville, and Jacques returned, their hands full of sweets wrapped in bright blue paper. "Would you want some?" Neville asked.

Grantaire took one sweet and carefully unwrapped it. "Where did you get these?"

Gavroche glanced towards the stall selling cakes and pastries. "There, more for the taking and the eating. Doubt the kings ever ate so well," he said, wiping off his lips which were sticky with the remnants of some fruit preserve that had been on the sweets.

Jacques tugged on Enjolras' coat just as the young man turned to leave. "Where are you going?"

"Up with the other men. I have to speak to them," Enjolras said. He'd become accustomed to having to simplify his words whenever he spoke to the youngest Thenardiers.

"Loudly?" Jacques asked, wide-eyed.

"What do you mean?"

"So that everyone can hear you?" the child wondered.

"Forgive him, he doesn't know that you call it 'speeches'," Eponine laughed, clasping Enjolras' hand warmly. "You go on, Enjolras. I'll be fine right here with everyone."

Enjolras smiled amusedly before going back through the crowd towards the platform set up. As he climbed up, he caught sight of Cosette, with her arm linked through Jean Valjean's. Apparently, they were searching through the crowd.

"Citizen Valjean," Enjolras greeted the old man discreetly.

Jean Valjean turned. "Have you seen Marius?"

Enjolras gestured towards the group he'd just left. Cosette gave him a grateful smile before walking more quickly towards where Marius stood.

Enjolras went across the platform towards where his fellow legislators were conversing. Fauchier saw him first. "Look, there are children carrying green branches," he remarked.

"Like last year," Talbot said. 

Bamatabois elbowed Enjolras. "I've been hearing the ladies remark about how you look this morning. It is enough to make even the men envious."

Enjolras scowled at him. "There, another superficiality when there are other, better things to celebrate."

"Vanity seems to be lost on this young man," Fauchier remarked.

It was at this point that Lafayette made his appearance. "Are you ready, Citizens?" he asked them.

The men nodded. Lafayette stood tall and cleared his throat. "Citizens, Citizenesses, people of France!" he called to the throng. A cheer went up.

"Today, we gather to honor and to remember those who fought for the freedom we now enjoy, even to the point of ultimate sacrifice," he continued as the cheering died down. "We see their remembrances today; it is only fitting that we do so before we anticipate the triumphs of tomorrow. On the occasion of burying Lamarque, you, all people of France, chose to rise up from the ground..." 

"Brevity is done away with for today," Enjolras muttered. He looked out over the crowd and caught sight of Combeferre, Joly, Musichetta, and Bossuet. Surprisingly, Bossuet was also with Claire, whose yellow hair gleamed in the sunshine. Musichetta waved over to Feuilly, who was carrying some orange fans. Bahorel stood nearby, his arm wrapped around his mistress' waist as he looked for his friends.

"...to speak of what they fought for, we'd like to call on Citizen Enjolras, one of our legislators and heroes of this revolution..." Lafayette suddenly said. Enjolras, without missing a beat, got to his feet and came forward.

"Citizens, this day, this dream now become a reality, had a dear price to it. Men and women gave up their lives, entire institutions were shaken, indeed all of France as we knew it was taken in the upheaval," Enjolras began. "Here, we watch as this change continues to ripple throughout Europe. Our neighbors have recognized it. They understand what has come upon them; the dawning of the age of the true. "

He paused to let the words sink in. "Truth is one of the inestimable values of this world. It is so dear that many a man has suffered much to uphold it. It is truth that the fallen, the heroes of last year fought for. What truth is this, citizens and citizenesses? This: that all men are created free and equal. That no king, no institution can oppress a person, that society as we know it must come out of the darkness into the light of reason."

Cheers went up from the throng. Enjolras raised his head. His eyes rested briefly on a red flag that had made its appearance in a window. "I do not say we glorify the losses, consider them as integral to our cause. The neccesary evil must not be grafted onto the right. Neither should we grow bitter and indifferent due to our grief, for if we lose our resolve, then the sacrifices of many would have been in vain. We should not deify their memories, for there is something greater than the passing of lives. Ponder on this, people of France, the fact that our fathers, brothers, mothers, sisters, friends, and comrades, sons and daughters gave up their lives so that we may have a future. So that France could stand tall, free of oppression and tyranny within and without. Would we have done the same were the places to be changed?" 

Now a silence rested over the throng. Enjolras' tone turned from bright and ringing, to now more serious and almost reflective but still strong. His eyes swept the crowd; he wanted everyone to hear what he would say next.

"We must realize that to work hand in hand at this moment is not just to honor those who have gone ahead of us, but to unite for the sake of the world we hold dear, for the hope that one day, all men from one end of the ocean to another can enjoy the same freedom we have today. Hunger is diminishing, rational thought is now imparted even to the very young, workers now are given their due. Death is no longer the end of the judicial system; now even those we spurn have a chance at redemption. These, among many things are to be an example of how all men, regardless of country or creed, can live without fear or despair. It is for these that we now must stand for."

After this, he stepped away from the dais, amid the thunderous cheers and shouts of the multitude. Enjolras glanced at the tricolor flapping above the platform, a proud symbol of what he'd just spoken about. His eyes were bright, as if he'd just stumbled upon something better than a pearl of great price.

Combeferre and Eponine now hurried to him. "That wasn't what you originally planned to say, but I think it was a good deal better," Combeferre said, clapping his friend on his shoulder.

Enjolras smiled, feeling the still folded papers rustling in his pocket.


	92. Epilogue: The Future That They Bring

**Epilogue: The Future That They Bring**

_September 15, 1833_

"It will take me a lifetime to get used to this," Eponine laughed to herself as she walked down the street, carrying her usual satchel. She hummed as she twirled the slender gold ring she wore on her hand, losing herself in her usual delightful reverie.

"_Bonjour_, Eponine," a voice greeted.

The young girl turned. "Ah, Montparnasse. How goes it with you?"

Montparnasse, now better dressed and looking a little less pallid than before, nodded cordially. "The same, working through everything. I'm sorry for not greeting you on your birthday last month."

"It doesn't matter," Eponine said. "Have you any news?" 

"Besides the rest of Patron-Minette serving their sentences?" Montparnasse remarked wryly. "Nothing much interesting there in the jails. I saw your father though. He asked about all of you; you and your siblings. I told him everything that had happened since you last spoke to each other. He didn't say anything after though."

Eponine nodded. "That's the first time he's asked since spring. _Merci, mon ami_, I needed to know that."

"_Au revoir_," Montparnasse said, turning back to the shop he'd just left.

Eponine sighed as she continued walking. "Maybe one day, even _that_ will be set to right," she thought. "At least Antoine's parents wrote to him last week. There's a little hope in that."   
At the Rue des Filles du Calvaire, Marius had pretty much abandoned his work as he tiptoed into the small room beside the one he shared with Cosette. He peered into the cradle in the middle of the room, and smiled as he found himself looking into a small, pink face with hair as dark and curly as his own, and eyes as wide as Cosette's.

"Marius? Looking at him again?" Cosette called from the doorway.

"I just wanted to make sure he's all right," Marius said sheepishly as Cosette went up and put her arms around him. "And you?"

"Oh you worry about me too much," Cosette giggled. "Though I understand why you're always here with George...he's so beautiful, isn't he?"

"I know where he gets it from, Cosette," Marius replied, kissing her cheek.

"There you all are. Now isn't that better than lawyering, Marius?" Gillenormand greeted from the hallway. "To take care of your son, to watch him grow instead of making yourself grow old...not like your friends in politics, or that ninny of your cousin who is still in Calais, with far less bordello girls."

"Grandfather..." Marius laughed. "I do have to make a living."

"And your friend Eponine is here to see you. Cosette's father is speaking to her in the parlor," Gillenormand said. "Now let me have a look at my great-grandchild. Not many men can boast of having been able to see this many generations!"

"Let's all go together then," Cosette said, picking up the baby from the cradle. They all went downstairs to the front room where Eponine's light chatter could be heard.

"Good afternoon, Eponine. I didn't expect to see you here this early," Marius greeted. 

"Well, Marius, I was just passing by and thought I'd make sure you'd receive what I was told to bring here," Eponine replied, digging into her satchel and handing him a whole bundle of papers sewn together into a book. "Bound like you asked for. It'll be easier when you have to review them."

"There's a good way of doing even the most tiresome thing," Valjean remarked. He went over to Cosette and looked at the child in her arms. "He reminds me so much of my youngest nephew," the old man said.

"Papa, you want to hold him?" Cosette asked warmly.

Eponine smiled bemusedly. "Well, I do remember my own brothers when they were that little. They're so big now, but who knows...if I have a little one of my own one day, when things are just a little brighter than they are."

Gillenormand chuckled and muttered something about 'in a year'. Cosette laughed and shook her head. "You won't regret it when you do, Eponine." 

"I still wish I had my Maman around to help..." Eponine said. "Oh, I was only joking, Cosette. Even I know how terrible my Maman was," she added, noticing her friend's horrified look. "And well, the time is running. It was good to see you all, even if I was only here to leave the books. _Au revoir_!"

After Eponine had banged the door shut, Cosette, Marius, and Valjean exchanged knowing looks. "She'll get it all right in the end, even if it isn't easy," Valjean said reassuringly before everyone went back upstairs again.

In the Musain, Combeferre sipped his coffee and surveyed the scene before him. Most of his friends were there, trying to keep some semblance of dignity since there were other patrons in the cafe. "One thing after another. It's a good thing though that the hospital is looking better."

Joly nodded to Musichetta. "It is not so terrible for her when she has to go by there," he said. "There was that measles in Picpus; some of Chetta's friends were brought to the hospital because of it, so Chetta and I go to visit often."

Musichetta smiled brightly. "It's not as bad as it was before."

Across the cafe, Bahorel laughed uproariously as Bossuet groaned. The two had been playing dominoes. "That's a bad move you did, _mon ami_," the older man said.

"You'll see, one day, I'll best the game!" Bossuet said, quickly recovering his good cheer.

Grantaire leaned over to look at the dominoes. "Actually, there was a mistake with how Bahorel put down his last one..."

Now it was Bossuet's turn to laugh. "There, I was right." 

Feuilly looked up from his work and shook his head. "So does that mean that Bahorel might have to change his wager." 

"Lightning never strikes twice," Grantaire pointed out.

Just then, the cafe door swung open, admitting Enjolras, Jehan, Azelma, Gavroche, Neville, and Jacques. "Starting early?" Enjolras asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bahorel burst out laughing. "You'd think after all that has happened, he'd cheer a little bit! It's his birthday, after all."

"_You_ are the one who is early. How are matters on the Rue del Lamarque?" Combeferre asked.

"The last hearing on the minimum wage law was today," Enjolras replied as his companions sat down. 

"The unbelievable has happened; Courfeyrac is staying late at a trial today," Jehan added.

"Courfeyrac? As in Maurice Courfeyrac?" Feuilly repeated.

'The one and only," Azelma said.

Gavroche quickly dropped to his knees to help Neville catch some marbles he'd dropped. "Be careful, momes!" he said, grabbing a marble.

"Where do you keep them anyway?" Musichetta asked.

"Me' pockets?" Jacques said, stopping a marble with his hand. "They spill when I walk."

Musichetta brought out a small bag no larger than her palm. "You can have this. See, it's so much better for you."

Jacques took the bag and dropped the marble in it. "_Merci_," he said in a small voice. "It's nice. I think Ponine will like it that I won't drop things so much now!"

"You were saying?" Eponine asked, pushing the door of the cafe open slightly. She smiled at Enjolras. "And you're here? How so?"

"I've been coming here for years before you were." Enjolras rejoinded dryly as he pulled up another chair.

Eponine sat down beside him. "An old habit?"

"Some things never change, after all," Combeferre said. "There is a thread of constancy that ties this world together despite all its turmoil, trial, and triumph."

"Perhaps that is Time, or God?" Jehan mused. "What do you all think?"

"Chaos," Grantaire drawled.

"Well, it cannot be entirely explained by Reason," Enjolras replied. "Maybe not at this point in time."

A knock sounded on the door of the cafe. Courfeyrac, out of breath but grinning from ear to ear, pushed the door open. "Enjolras, you should have stayed a little longer at the Rue del Lamarque!" he said.

"What?" Enjolras asked.

Courfeyrac sat in a chair as Gavroche handed him a glass of water. "I was passing by on my way back from the Palais de Justice, and I heard that Lafayette is signing that resolution on minimum wages..."

Exclamations, laughter, cheers, and congratulations went all around the cafe, even from the other patrons seated there. Enjolras raised his hand for silence. "When is he signing it then?"

"Now. We might be able to see it," Courfeyrac said enthusiastically. 

Enjolras, Combeferre, and Grantaire hurriedly settled the bill with Louison while the rest grabbed their coats, books, and whatever else they'd brought with them. "Dear me, there's another change in the wind! The people will be happy to hear of this. _Vivent les peuples!_" Feuilly laughed as he walked out after Bahorel and Bossuet.

Eponine walked up to Enjolras quietly. "Should I still go with you?" she asked him as Combeferre and Grantaire stepped out of the Musain.

"If that is your wish," Enjolras said matter-of-factly, putting a hand on her shoulder before going to the door. Just as he stepped out, he stopped and looked at her with a warm smile. "Though I'd like it if you did."

Eponine grinned and put on her hat. "You didn't need to ask," she said, running out of the Musain into the bright afternoon light and leaving the door wide open.

_finis_


End file.
